


Alien.

by Hichanchen, SMUTSIS_maria



Category: Monsta X (Band), Wonho - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Autism Spectrum, But also, Do you ever feel like you don't belong, Enemies to Lovers, Feeling like an alien, Fluff and Angst, HyungWonho - Freeform, M/M, Neuroscientist Hyungwon, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Poet Hoseok, Sexual Intimacy, Should we tag smut, Then this story is for you., We don't know how to tag, Wonchae, at least we wanted it to be one..., beautifully deep and intense emotional connection, idk - Freeform, non-superficial attraction, this story is just really beautiful..ok, we want to give you a glimpse of what it means to live with ASD, wedding crasher au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:20:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 151,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27214054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hichanchen/pseuds/Hichanchen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMUTSIS_maria/pseuds/SMUTSIS_maria
Summary: Building a spaceshipOut of muddy leavesIs so much easierThan love.'I like your shorts' I say and meanthat I like you.'They're pink'You frown'I know'I say.Where is this spaceship nowWhen you and I are lostand haven't foundThe happiness that years had promisedJust when I breathewhen no one doesAnd you only breathewhen you're alone.But timekeeps pouring over uslike midnight rainhealing the wounds that wereAnd ripping new onesInto a piece of paperStained with ink.Just listen,Only you can hearHow through the thickest stoneMy wordsBecame a soundIn an eternity of silenceAnd I can seehow youMy loveTranscended softlyinto a dreamI never thoughtI'd have.
Relationships: Chae Hyungwon/Lee Hoseok | Wonho
Comments: 37
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dear readers,  
> It's been such a long time, right? But now, we are finally back with our newest story: **Alien**. We really enjoyed writing it, and it took almost two months to finish. We sincerely hope that it makes you feel warm and loved. This story might contain the deepest and most intense kind of intimacy we've ever explored in our books, so we hope that you will feel it too.  
> Alien. is already written and published and we will be updating every second day, so you can look forward to that!  
>   
> If you want to know more about us, get updates and information about new stories, hit us up on **Twitter**  
> [@SMUTSIS Official](http://twitter.com/SMUT_SIS)  
> (Write us a brief dm so we can accept your follow. We decline if we don't get a dm.)  
> [INSTAGRAM](https://www.instagram.com/smut_sis/)  
>   
>   
>   
> We are really hoping that you will enjoy this story as much as our previous works if not more and will be able to take something precious with you.  
>   
> We write one character each, also if it is the perspective of the respective other character  
> Hichanchen writes Hyungwon  
> SMUTSIS_maria writes Hoseok  
> As always a special Thank You to our beta-readers Molly and Natalie, to Kaine who drew a beautiful cover and to Angie who edited it.  
>   
>   
> We are always so damn grateful for every little bit of feedback, be it a comment, a kudos or a message on Twitter :D You guys are the major reason that we write! (And Hyungwonho, because honestly, it's THE SHIP)  
> (We also have another story on the way after this one, so stay tuned.)

CHAPTER 1

_“Do you think aliens exist?"_

_“I know. I know they do.”_

_

He cursed and threw his suit pants into the grey, oversized suitcase that he had brought when he moved in six months ago. It looked just as old as it had back then, covered in black scratches from recklessly being thrown around by airport staff during his overseas trips, but still, there was a difference. When he first entered the spacious apartment, he didn’t have as many belongings, just a few dress shirts to look fancy, jeans and mostly black t-shirts that were worn too often and dried under the sun, looking more greyish with a hint of sad than anything else. He thought something had changed during those six months, but the suitcase gave him away. The him that he had tried to paint over, talk over, until it became a quiet voice in the background of his life, not important, or bright, or special.

The suit jacket went next. It was expensive, and one could and should’ve properly folded it to not damage the fancy fabric, but what was the point if you didn’t need to wear that suit anymore? The need for the expensive suit had disappeared, just as people went out wearing a raincoat thinking it would rain, but the rain never came. He was prepared for it, ready, willing to work and change his life for the better, but then it just…

It disappeared like a comet. He had seen it in front of his eyes and had been holding onto it with his gaze. It was there, it had been there, but then it just evaporated, left and never came back and the suit seemed like the faint light that still glimmered in the night sky but faded more with every passing second.

_Your thoughts sound so dramatic. One might think you’re some character in a book fighting a terrible strike of fate necessary for the plot._

Chuckling, he took the grey shirt that he had been wearing despite its sorry state and pulled it over his bare torso. It hadn't been a day since it happened, and he still checked his phone occasionally to make sure it wasn’t a strange dream. He thought about it but there was something unrealistic about that line of reasoning because he never dreamt. It must be reality. His reality, that took such an unexpected turn that he felt devastated and broken on the one hand, and thankful for the complete breakdown, the forced departure and the calm of the darkness that surrounded him because it was in the middle of the night on the other. It was the perfect time to leave.

When the suitcase closed, and he lifted it from the expensive leather couch, he didn’t make a single sound, like an unidentified existence floating in the air, over the carpet, past the bedroom and even though the door was slightly open, he didn't glance inside because he knew that she didn’t want him to. If somebody had asked him what was the hardest about leaving the person he was about to marry just yesterday, it was the lack of understanding about what had happened mixed with the remaining bitterness. The bitterness of knowing that whatever it was, it had been enough to ask him to leave.

The cab was waiting outside and unlike him, the driver didn’t seem to enjoy the night time as much, glancing at his watch repeatedly, gaze holding a silent accusation and reminding him that other people had better things to do than to wait for his dramatic departure from the place that he had called home for the past half a year. It might not have seemed like a long time to some people, but it had been the longest time that he had stayed in one place since he turned twelve. He had been ready to stay longer.

“You don’t look in a hurry, so you must not be catching a flight at this late hour, monsieur,” the driver commented and cleared his throat while waiting for the address that he had to look up in his emails. He had never been to that area before, not since moving to Paris, but there wasn’t much choice anyway. It had quite literally been the only furnished place where he could stay that was available on such short notice and with his limited funds.

The driver lifted an eyebrow, but he felt too emotional to think about whether it was a judgment towards him as a person, or the place he as a person was trying to go to.

“I’m not, so don’t worry, there is no need to hurry,” he commented before adding that he was thankful that the driver waited for him. He felt like shit, but that wasn’t the man's fault, was it? There was just... something about the way he spoke that triggered memories of the person who ruined it all, walking into the beautifully decorated church without a single hint of shame and ruining his life, his relationship and his future all in one go with words that didn’t make any sense.

He didn’t hate that person, not really. He just wished they didn’t exist and hadn’t come to his wedding and ruined it. He wished that any of the things that happened made sense, but they didn’t, they made no sense at all.

People who had faith must have less of a hard time trying to make sense of the universe, he thought as the car sped through the Parisian night and he watched the lights rush past him so fast that they resembled long, bright lines, traveling with him behind the car window.

He had no idea how much time had passed, but the driver with the low voice announced that they had arrived. Did he think about what awaited him? Not in the slightest, he was far too occupied with the shards of his life and explanations for what happened, because if there was a cause, then maybe, maybe one could fix it somehow. Maybe there was a way to solve a possible misunderstanding and put the shards back in place.

The driver was waiting for his money, but he couldn’t let the thought pass, taking out his blue notebook and pen, inhaling the specific scent of the car that reminded him of smoke and strong male perfume.

‘Glue the shards, but the vase is still broken.’ he wrote.

“Monsieur? I need to leave for the next client. It’s in the middle of the night.”

“Right. I’m sorry,” he murmured, closing his notebook and pulling out enough money including a tip to give it to the driver. It was a bit selfish to forget that the night was a time for people to rest and regain their energy, that they mostly struggled to stay awake. It seemed understandable and at the same time as a fairy-tale to him.

The suitcase hit the pavement and made plenty of noise as he walked up to the small apartment building that didn’t look very abandoned or extremely dirty. On the contrary. It was very much average, which surprised him. It was simply unrealistic to find a decent place to stay in Paris for reasonable money in a few hours. Maybe he had to prepare himself for some uncomfortable surprises, but what could be worse than what happened yesterday? What could be worse than losing a home, a relationship and a dream all at once?

As he climbed up the stairs to the first floor and quietly pulled out the key from under a black mat, carefully opening the door and stepping into a big, stuffy one room apartment, there was a certain calmness in his body and mind. His fingers weren’t shaking like a few hours ago when he changed and tried to pack his stuff. His thoughts weren’t racing, trying to analyse every single micro gesture, every second, every word that was spoken in those minutes before the catastrophe. Instead, it was simply night and he was alone in a furnished apartment somewhere in Paris, trying to understand why and how he ended up here.

***

Wide eyes that blinked a few times to focus. A white ceiling with patches of grey that appeared to provide at least a little bit of stimulation to his retina. And finally, the shiny numbers on an alarm clock, staring back at him without a sound. They showed a red three and two zeros, vibrant and almost painful to his sensitive eyes in the pitch dark that was his room.

The timing was so perfect that he stared at the numbers without moving. He kept staring for so long that the second zero turned into a one and the spell broke. Blinking to remove the image that burned itself onto his eyelids, he began to wonder why he was even awake at this hour.

Three in the morning was surely not the time to be up and about, especially not for him. Mostly because there was nothing going on, nothing to be done and because it was important to get enough sleep to function. Sleep was generally the solution to every problem there was, which in return meant that lack of sleep was the source of each of those problems.

_The first one might be starting already._

The blanket on top of him was quickly pushed to the middle of his knees as he sat up. He only enjoyed the sensation when he was about to fall asleep and that time seemed to have long passed by now. The perfect timing of the alarm clock seemed at fault, almost like a sign that he was supposed to be doing something else.

_Have you forgotten something?_

He briefly checked through everything that needed to be done but couldn’t find anything that he had forgotten. That was the disadvantage of forgetting. The mere knowledge that it happened didn't result in a solution to the problem, even if at first it felt like a step forward. Truthfully, it was a waste of time and he already missed those two minutes that he had spent contemplating why he was awake.

The alarm clock showed a three, a zero and another three now.

Closing his eyes, he focused on his surroundings, on the sounds he could decipher and the scent of fried walnuts that was a constant in his apartment. He could hear the familiar ticking of the clock in the living room, the rushing of the pipes behind his bedroom wall and the barely audible whiff of air that passed through the small crack in his window. It was all there and just the way it should be.

_Then why are you awake?_

Just when he was about to lie back down and return to his regeneration sleep, there was a sudden crunching noise stemming from right behind the wall.

_What's that?_

His eyes widened with shock and curiosity and he got up on all fours to move closer to the spot where he had heard the noise. Enough years had passed for him to know every single sound that the house could produce, not only in his apartment, but also in every other apartment. There was nothing that produced crunching noises and especially none that sounded so irregular.

_You made sure that everything was regular._

Frowning, he pressed his ear to the bumpy surface and kept his eyes closed to focus. A few seconds passed before there was another wave of crunching. His ears were sensitive and the longer he listened the more sounds he was able to identify. The crunching was preceded by a metallic cling, like a spoon against a bowl. There was a hint of liquid too, moving inside the bowl until it was slurped up with a spoon and the contents were chewed, resulting in said crunching noises.

_Is somebody eating… cereal?_

He couldn't quite believe it and listened a little longer, disbelieving that a person like that existed. A person that gave up on sleep to munch on cereal.

_Is that even allowed?_

He scrambled out of bed and hurried towards the big folder of rules that he kept in the living room for cases just like this one. Humans were a mystery and even though they were the ones who created most of the rules, he still struggled with their inability to abide by them.

_You seem to be doing a much better job._

A few pages in and he had already found the clearly defined rules for property use, the rules that pointed out there was not supposed to be any disturbance past ten o'clock in the evening. By munching on cereal at three in the morning there was definitely a disturbance that needed to be taken care of.

Armed with his rulebook and a black permanent marker, he prepared himself to leave his own apartment and venture into the darkened hallways of his apartment building. He wasn't very familiar with it as the night was meant for sleeping. Right before opening the door he realised that he was still indecent by human standards, so he stared at his naked thighs for a few moments before wrapping a blanket from the living room couch around his hips. This qualified as clothing, so it would have to do.

_Like a Greek tunic._

The stairway was a little cooler than his apartment, but it was rather welcome after a summer night wrapped in his blanket. He waddled the few steps towards the door next to his and took out the page from the rule book that explained disturbances at night. Since it looked rather plain, he used his permanent marker to draw a few exclamation signs around it before slipping it through the crack below his neighbours’ door. This was educational and should solve the problem.

Proud of his achievement, he grabbed his rule book and permanent marker and stopped at the railing that curled all the way from the third floor to the basement. It was black, but over the years some of the colour kept peeling off, so he had begun to cover it up with a permanent marker. One couldn't tell, and the only disadvantage was that touching it left marks on the fingers.

_But then, why would anybody touch the railing, right?_

The new greenish spot was quickly back to black and he smiled a little because another problem was solved and could be forgotten about. He returned to his apartment, the blanket returned to its spot on the living room couch and his body returned to bed where he belonged when the clock showed three, two and four.

***

It was quiet apart from the faint noises of a few cars that passed by the apartment building in the middle of the night. He liked the silence and how calm it was around him even though he was in a foreign place with unfamiliar furniture and scent. He was surrounded by things he hadn’t gotten used to yet, but the silence and a bit of the darkness that enveloped him despite the light of the table lamp next to the couch, created the sensation of familiarity, accompanying him no matter where he went.

After his stomach made a few noises of complaint, he realised that he hadn’t eaten any proper food and it was too late to go and buy anything decent in addition to the sad fact that delivery services weren’t working at his usual active time. Sighing quietly, he pulled out the package of cereal and milk that he had brought along in the unlikely case that he got hungry at his new place or would have to check into a hotel if the new apartment turned out to be a disaster.

Thankfully, he found a black ceramic bowl and a decent spoon in one of the kitchen cupboards. Prepared for his first meal after the end of the world, he sat on the small grey couch, crunching on the cereal as fast as he could to prevent it from getting soggy. Interestingly, the silence around him made his own chewing noises so prominent that his thoughts had to pause for a while until he finished the bowl and the cycle continued. Wasn’t it interesting, how humans needed to eat and weren’t able to function without providing their bodies with enough nutrients?

He smiled at nothing and was about to wash out the bowl when suddenly, there was a noise outside, on the staircase. It came from the wall beside the door of his apartment. A few scratching sounds and finally a white piece of paper that slowly slid under his door and into the apartment like an unwelcome and creepy intruder.

Mind resembling a blank canvas, he stared for a few long moments before slowly moving towards the foreign object. There was something written on the paper, but he didn’t dare pick it up yet. Who knew? Better safe than sorry. Instead of touching it, he crouched down and leaned close enough to be able to read the small printed letters of a paragraph that was emphasized with badly drawn exclamation marks on the side.

He didn’t know what he had expected to read, but whatever his expectations might have been, they surely didn’t include an excerpt of house rules that stated that tenants weren’t supposed to cause any disturbance after ten p.m.

Swallowing briefly, he finally picked the piece of paper up from the floor and lifted it to his face, inspecting it closely. After a few seconds he couldn’t help it and laughed out loud, slightly squeezing the paper in his hand. What should he do about it? Throw it away?

He decided against it, walking towards the white table in the far-right corner of the apartment and quickly folding the piece of paper into an origami crescent moon. It looked good and was a bit too much effort for random strangers complaining about disturbances in the most ridiculous way possible, but still he did. He wasn’t sleeping anyway. But giving anything without words accompanying it didn’t fit his personality, so he returned to his open suitcase and pulled out a black ink pen. Stroking the paper flat, he leaned in and wrote: ‘What is a sound in an eternity of silence?’.

It was perfect. Smiling brightly and trying not to laugh again, he walked out, careful to make as little sound as possible while holding onto the railing until he stood in front of the door he assumed the complaining stranger came from. He held his breath and crouched down, pushing the origami moon under the door and it would’ve been perfect if only his right hand wasn’t covered in black, as if he touched something he shouldn’t have, like a curse, a stain that would not leave him.

Inhaling deeply, he stood up and quickly walked back, locking the door and breathing heavily. The night was still dark, the old suitcase still lay on the floor judging him and the table lamp still covered the unfamiliar place in shadows and… nothing made sense.

Nothing made any sense at all.

***

This time the numbers on the black screen were the right ones, showing him an eight and two zeros in red. The noises were also the right ones, playing Beethoven's 5th symphony because nothing else was able to force him out of bed as quickly.

He sat straight within the first two seconds and was already out of bed with the alarm clock in hand after five. It observed him as he brushed his teeth, showered his body because he disliked the feeling of sleep and sweat sticking to him and finally dressed in something loose and comfortable along with his Birkenstocks. As somebody with sensitive skin it was important to treat it right, so he made sure that his fabrics were completely made of cotton, cashmere or silk. Most humans didn't have that problem, but he wasn't human so there was nothing he could do but pick out his fabrics with care.

His alarm clock accompanied him through his routine, changing numbers at the same speed it always did. The exchange was almost like a conversation, he commented on the current step in his routine and the alarm clock switched a number. Once he was standing right in front of his door with his bag, keys, phone and wallet in the back pocket of his pants, the alarm clock finally settled on a chair in his hallway to tell him goodbye.

Only when he was about to answer the numbers that changed to eight, three and zero, he realised there was an object on the floor, right in front of the door.

_That isn't supposed to be there._

Surprised, he instantly crouched and grabbed it, realising that it was a 'something' made of paper. Staring for a little longer, he decided it was something in a crescent shape, probably a comma made of paper that had magically appeared in his apartment.

_Exciting._

He wiggled his fingers with a grin and turned the folded paper around, wondering if there was a secret message for him, something that explained everything that he hadn't been able to understand yet.

Instead of less confusion, there was only more as there was a single sentence written on the ball. 'What is a sound in an eternity of silence?'

_Exactly that. A sound._

He stared, wondering if there was something he wasn't quite grasping. If there was an eternity of silence, then there shouldn't be a sound, because eternity was forever after all. And if there was a sound, then the silence wasn't eternal anymore.

_A paradox?_

Frowning, he decided to unfold the paper. He hoped to find out more, but instead of more words the familiar page of the apartment rule book stared back at him. He knew that it was his because his exclamation marks were still there.

_The neighbour?_

He turned the paper again until he saw the sentence, trying to understand if it was an answer to his attempt to educate the person in the apartment next door.

_Isn't that the point? That there should be an eternity of silence?_

He nodded to himself and hurried to his desk to grab a post-it note. 'A noise,' he wrote on it. 'A noise that breaks the silence.'

His alarm clock judged him with the numbers eight, three and seven, so he quickly hurried out of the door and stuck his post-it note on the neighbour's bell.

Running down the stairs, he did his best to ignore the newly brightened spot on the railing in the form of a hand.

_Because nobody touches railings._

***

The bed smelled like someone had left the windows open during a rain shower for too long, letting some moisture inside the small apartment and creating the distinct smell of stuffiness and pulling out the scent of old furniture. It was the first thing he perceived, even before opening his eyes and recognising where he was.

Did he miss the fresh fragrance of her favourite detergent on his clothes and bed linen? The mixture of her perfume and the scent of the spacious apartment that was stronger in the bedroom and least noticeable in the kitchen? Maybe. Maybe he did. But right now, when he woke up and inhaled the first conscious portion of air, he only registered the fact that it was different without making a judgment about whether it was a good or a bad change.

The years of frequent moves, change of surroundings, passing relationships could've prepared him for this, could've shaped his resilience to not break down in a puddle of tears and self-pity.

_The pain you feel is the step to bear the pain that is still to come._

He needed to write it down which was motivation enough to finally open his eyes to the bright light that made the apartment look friendlier, shades appearing clearer and furniture seeming less used than previously assumed. The bed squeaked when he sat up and he grinned because it sounded like a dying duck.

_You didn't get the black stains off._

He had the idea of buying some nail polish remover to try and get rid of it, remembering how she used it to remove permanent stains from surfaces, swearing by it to get rid of everything. She was so good at erasing traces. Even now, he imagined her taking some nail polish remover and wiping over their months together, promises, some of the intimacy they shared. 'But it really gets rid of everything. You wouldn't know it was there,' she whispered right into his mind, stirring emotions that made it hard to breathe.

Walking to his old grey suitcase, he changed into fresh underwear and wore one of the greyish sad t-shirts. Maybe he did it because he had missed feeling like himself, or maybe he wanted to prove to himself and to her that he could live through everything, no matter what it was, wearing that old shirt in an unfamiliar apartment, not knowing what to do next, but attempting to believe that it would be okay eventually.

His thoughts were a bit childish, but what could he do? Childish thoughts had their right to exist and make him feel a bit more bitter about what had happened, despite having no understanding.

_The nail polish._

Lifting his right hand, he shook his head before taking out black chinos and slipping into his shoes. He had no idea where the nearest shop was, but he would ask someone. He didn't know what time it was, but he would look it up. He had no idea what the day would bring, but it couldn't get worse and he knew it. He knew, until he saw the small piece of paper lying right next to the apartment door. Sighing, he picked it up this time, only to read the words 'A noise. A noise that breaks the silence.' written in terrible handwriting.

He had asked what a sound would be in eternal silence, and the person in the apartment next door considered it a noise breaking it. They had no idea and probably hadn't wasted a single thought on his little poem. Only he seemed to care that if the silence was supposed to be eternal, a sound could only mean that you weren't alone.

Sighing, he thought about throwing the note away, but the bitterness didn't let him, so he walked to the table to pick up his pen to reply. He turned the post-it and made sure to write 'Existence is noisy' in beautiful letters before walking out of the stuffy apartment and slipping the piece of paper into the apartment next door.

When he stepped back and glanced over the staircase, he noticed a strange pattern on the black railing that looked rubbed off. A few seconds passed before he lifted his right hand and observed the black stain on his palm, inhaling deeply and feeling a sudden calm in his mind.

_Maybe you keep searching for reasons in the wrong places._

***

The outlines of the objects around him that had been so sharp throughout the day finally began to blur. The cigarette butts on the pavement became a part of it and the stages of the traffic light switched from orange to a brighter green than usual. The rather (in his opinion) ugly sculpture that always stood in the front yard of the neighbouring house now had an unreadable expression instead of the confusing joy it usually showed.

_Everything changes on your way home._

The sculpture wasn't the only thing with an unreadable expression. He felt the same about all the people that passed him by, their eyebrows and lips moved but he couldn't tell what they were trying to tell him, what their expressions meant.

Whenever he walked back from work, the world returned to the way he knew it best, to the confusing mess of colours and sounds that it had always been since he came to Earth.

_Your understanding isn't long lasting, only a few hours until evening comes, and you need to end the day._

Now he also needed to end the day, to go home and forget about the words and worries of humans, about their expectations and finally about the ways in which he could satisfy them. It was enough for one day and staring at the blurry door, where he would stick his equally blurry key into, was calming.

He counted the steps on his way up to the first floor and opened his empty apartment, inhaling the aroma of the scented candle he bought in bulk and liked to light up in the evening. The simple scent was enough to overcome every other odour, numbing his sense of olfaction just enough to lie down on the carpet and simply breathe.

Instead of feeling and thinking nothing as he had hoped for, there was something rough poking his cheek. His hand was slow to move, but it reached the object eventually, fingertips sliding along the edges until he recognised a piece of paper. Once he lifted it in front of his blurry vision, he recognised a note written in the same handwriting as the note before. He could tell from the rather delicate curve with which each 'n' was scribbled onto the paper.

'Existence is noisy,' it said.

He thought about it, even though there was no strength for anything but empty ceilings, the numbers of his friend, the alarm clock, changing and the tingling in his fingers when he didn't move them for too long.

_Existence is noisy. Are you noisy, right now?_

He was existing, wasn't he? He was alive and lying in front of his apartment door, wriggling his fingers once in a while and breathing in and out. Breathing might be noisy, like air blowing through the slit of a door. Existing meant breathing, even for him, so it was true that existing was noisy.

_But not all noise steals your sleep._

That must have been what his neighbour tried to tell him. That they were a human and alive and therefore made noise. But eating cereal at three and two zeros wasn't something that they had to do to survive. His neighbour could have also eaten the cereal at eight and two zeros, his appropriate wakeup time.

_Maybe it is something they cannot change?_

He thought about that, but no matter how difficult it was, rules had to be followed, or not? Wasn't that the reason for creating punishments and removing individuals from society? By not following rules one could be taken and put somewhere entirely different, a place where there were no rules to learn and no behaviour to adapt to. Somebody like him would be lost in a world without rules because he couldn't pretend.

_Because you couldn't fool them into thinking that you are human._

Pulling at his fingers as several numbers changed on his alarm clock, he thought about how to answer and what to do. His neighbour had to follow the rules, but they must have misunderstood what they were supposed to do. If they didn't know, then they must need help.

_You can help._

He sat up and glanced around, waiting for his vision to stop being so blurry. Once the furniture seemed recognizable, he jumped up and hurried to his collection of papers that had been printed on once but were still nice on the other side and too good to throw away. He began simply by writing all hours of the day on the left side and all days of the week on the top. That way he created a schedule that his neighbour could use.

Reciting the rulebook inside of his head, he marked every hour during which noise was allowed by writing 'cereal' into it. Once all hours were marked, he took a differently coloured pen and wrote 'no cereal' into all the other hours. The result was straightforward, colourful and easy to understand, so he smiled.

There wasn't much left of the day because he spent most of the evening on the carpet, but twenty-one, five, two was still before the 'no cereal' mark on the schedule. So, he grabbed it and made his way over to his neighbour's door. He also took two post-it notes that he wrote on right there. On the first one he wrote 'for you' and stuck it to the schedule he made. On the second, he wrote 'Can you make me a paper swan?' because the previous note looked like a comma and if he could have a swan, then the swan could join one of the blue papers in his office that looked like a lake. But it was an empty lake, so it needed a swan, a small one.

Once he had pushed all his messages under the door, he realised once again that his vision had smudged the borders of his door and the wall.

It resembled a lake, but a lake that was his home. Maybe his neighbour could make a swan for that lake too.

So, there wouldn't be a need for a human.

***

White walls, white ceiling, his white hands without a single stain of paint and complete silence. He wasn’t a person who had many friends or acquaintances. He didn’t like social events, or small talk, but he cherished understanding which he painfully missed. Sitting in the small foreign apartment, unable to talk to anybody about what happened was like an unnatural, forceful silence. His parents knew as they had been present at the wedding, and only wrote once, commenting that it had been his fault for ‘fucking around’. Everybody else felt too uncomfortable being a witness to that situation, so they probably decided it was for the best to end their social relationship on that note. It was nice to understand them, but it would’ve been nice to be understood in return.

He had heard steps in front of his door a few hours ago and the quiet rubbing, that distinct sound that he had remembered from the first time. It was the slide of paper through the space under the door and against the wooden surface of his floor. Was it strange to be a little excited about it, even though there were no expectations of understanding from the person on the opposite side of the wall? Maybe it was, but he still was excited because he didn’t know them, and they didn’t know him, but still decided to engage in cryptic communication with him that was unusual. He had expected the said neighbour to knock, tell him their opinion and leave without giving any room for discussion or pleasant interaction.

The numbers on his phone showed that it was night again and he had written three sentences in a span of five hours, but as was often the case, he persuaded himself that it was better than writing nothing. Now, that he wouldn’t publish a book anytime soon or ever, there was as much time as his lifetime had to give for him to write and wasn’t that…

_Terrible. It’s terrible._

Sighing, he stood up from the chair that was probably not designed to be sat on for hours, which was evident in his aching lower back and a headache from having to adjust to the height of the table and walked into the bathroom to take a brief shower.

He loved taking showers. The water took so much pressure from his head, as if all thoughts that had been inside his mind, circling endlessly, could be flushed out by the narrow streams that hit his scalp and emptied it, putting it into a state of calm. A calm where only basic thinking and reflection remained. It could be compared to a room full of things, cluttered and disorganized. Those things requested and swallowed attention without giving any enlightenment or investment back and wasted precious time and thought that one could have used to focus on the most important things that weren’t visible.

_Like the fact that everything just crashed around you, that you lost a relationship, your social network that you built around her and most importantly the opportunity to finally let your words meet paper and manifest._

The shower gel that he bought was so unlike him, but he wanted to try something entirely different, confusing his olfactory senses into believing that this was a new start carrying a different fragrance from his past, a fragrance that was connected to days of leisure and happiness.

_When did painting the surface change the inside?_

Never. But one could pretend for a little while, at least until it didn't hurt so much that the thoughts kept coming back and the showers got longer and more frequent. There needed to be another way to deal. Another way besides writing.

His feet carried him to the front door and he picked up the colourful paper that showed a table that looked like a schedule. It was written in different colours and contained only two kinds of routines. ‘Cereal’ and ‘No cereal’.

Staring intently for a few seconds, waiting for the colourful table to turn into a hallucination, he again laughed loudly, unable to stop until he saw a note sticking to it asking him to make a swan.

Suddenly, the interactions made so much sense. He must’ve been talking to a child that slept next to the wall that connected their apartments. It was fun, but there was no reason to creepily interact with a neighbour’s child, so he smiled again at all the effort the kid put into the timetable before sitting at his desk and making an origami swan as a finish. He would’ve loved to make a black one because those were his favourites, but unfortunately, he only had his white paper, so a white swan it was. It took a bit longer than usual because he put in effort to make it as recognizable as he could, before lifting its wing and taking his fine liner pen. ‘I’m sorry, kiddo. I’ll be quiet’ he wrote, imagining the poor child having to go to school after being woken up by him eating cereal.

As he walked out into the dark staircase and pushed the folded piece of paper under the apartment door that looked just like his, the thought of another ending approaching made him feel emptier than he dared to admit.

***

White, delicate and made from thin paper. A white swan was staring back at him from in front of his door, like a small dream come true. It wasn't one of those big dreams that one kept for years and saved up for or one of those unrealistic ones that only appeared occasionally before they were abandoned with a shrug. It was a tiny but genuine dream, something that he thought of whenever he saw the blue sheet on his office desk and wished for it to have company while also providing him with company.

_They really made you a swan._

Not only did he now have a beautiful swan, but there had also been no cereal noise from the other apartment, so the schedule must have been of help as well. There had been other noise, but maybe the person behind the wall didn't know all the things that qualified as noise. They had spoken of existence, but existence itself wasn't as loud as other things were. Showering for example.

_But even if they made noise, you cannot accept a present without giving something in return. That's unfair._

He fumbled with the swan's wings because they were so well done until he saw the delicate writing below the wing. There was a message for him again, like a secret letter. It excited him somehow because the letter had no expectations. It was simply there.

_Kiddo?_

He stared at the word because it didn't make sense. It was nice that his neighbour promised to be quiet, but how could they think that a child was living in an apartment all by itself. Wasn't that forbidden?

_They don't seem to be very familiar with rules._

Still, he wanted to show that he was thankful, maybe by giving something in return that he was able to make. A paper swan wasn't something he could do, because his fingers didn't always listen. But his brain usually did a pretty good job, so there should be something he could do.

_You do have that neural network you’ve been training._

Chewing on his lips because he didn't know if it was nice enough, he hurried back to his computer and got to work. Luckily, it was one of the two days that he could work from home and there was no need to focus on the people around him or who was currently talking to him. Like this he was able to fully stay with the task at hand without either talking or seeing anybody. It was lonely, but at least it was quiet.

_But you have the swan now and it's only a few days until your birthday. It's not long anymore._

He smiled and looked for a pretty picture of a swan at first. Most of the pictures were white swans, but this swan wouldn't be made from paper, so he decided to choose a black one. It was more like him, like a black sheep among many white ones, but invisible because nobody could tell.

_But they won't know why you chose the picture. That's what you learned, isn't it? Humans don't think like you._

Once he decided on a picture, he let his neural network modify it and grinned when it worked out and he got the same picture of a black swan, but in the style of Vincent Van Gogh. It looked authentic and that meant he had done a decent job analysing the patterns. He printed it quickly and blew on it on his way to the neighbour's door, helping it dry. He wanted to make sure none of the colours smudged.

_It must look just as nice as the paper swan._

His post-it notes were in his other hand along with a pen and he quickly scribbled on it. 'I'm not a child. I made this,' he wrote on the first one and stuck it to the back of the swan picture before writing a second post-it note.

At first, he had wanted to address the noise, to ask why his neighbour showered late at night when he should have been sleeping. Why was there so much noise in the tubes right above his head when it should have been quiet enough for him to get enough sleep? He thought about asking all that but being able to write it on a paper gave him the courage to ask a slightly different question. A question he wouldn't have asked in person because he knew that he wasn't supposed to, not to a stranger.

'How does a shower at night feel?'

***

The streets looked plain and somehow the thick raindrops that hit the top of his head and his arms as he strolled along the road back towards the now more familiar apartment building reminded him of a certain feeling. It was interesting how the houses in the neighbourhood had one thing in common, namely the fading colours of the facade paint that was covered in fissures and the unfitting attempts to get rid of them, making the general impression of the buildings resemble an unnatural puzzle of grey patches. Usually he didn’t mind grey, but today seemed more monochrome than anything else.

His trip to the shop to get some supplies for writing and apparently his newly discovered passion for origami, was supposed to give him some fresh thoughts, but only the monotonous moisture happened to seep through his eyes and ears inside his mind, leaching out the colours that had been there before he went out.

He walked up the stairs, not touching the railing this time and smiled when he tried to find the spot where he had touched it, but everything was covered in black. Covered by somebody who couldn’t take the traces that time and usage left on the object.

Feelings of very genuine and fragile excitement occupied his chest when he walked into his apartment, slipped out of his shoes and unpacked the shopping bag on the desk in the corner. The swan that the neighbour gave him lay on the first page of his notebook and he smiled remembering the tiny note. They were not a child they said, but they seemed so much like one. Children were straightforward and perceived the world differently. But what if that was the essence of being human? What if it was essential for human kind to keep curiosity and straightforwardness, but they were unable to do so in the long run, because society taught that it was wrong?

_How does it feel to become what you are not?_

He wrote the words into the notebook and took a black piece of origami paper, attempting to make an even more beautiful swan. It was very meditative, and he liked to watch his hands move just like he wanted them to, folding the paper neatly and perfectly, creating something that his mind provided the picture for. Straightforward, without any unnecessary thoughts.

_But what does a shower at night feel like?_

He couldn’t write on the origami-swan, so he took a piece of the letter paper between his fingers, checking its weight and stroking over the irregular surface to get a feeling for it. What did it feel like to shower in the night? It was a question so complex that he would have needed to write a long letter about the night and why it was the night for him, but the question was only about the shower, wasn’t it? Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes and thought about water hitting his skin, how it let him get rid of his thoughts, those he didn’t want to keep and took the fine tip pen into his right hand.

‘At night, I exist. It feels like only at that time, when everything is dark, silent and empty, the water can take what I want to leave me,” he wrote. When the tip of the pen lifted from the paper, he swallowed and wrote under it: ‘How does it feel to hear in the silence?’

Did he know that it was intimate and deep, that he was sharing his thoughts and feelings with a person who didn’t know or care about him? He did know, but that has been the source of his excitement. It felt incredibly freeing to be just him without a single expectation.

Well, maybe apart from being expected to not eat cereal in the middle of the night next to the thin wall. But compared to the kinds of expectations his other interactions and relationships had entailed, he was oddly okay with this one.

***

Water ran over his upper arm and wrist, still a little cold because the five seconds that it needed to heat up hadn't passed yet. He focused on the way it felt, on each drop as it combined with its friends and finally travelled down his skin to his fingertips. Once the fingertips were reached, thick drops developed that fell onto the bottom of the shower and disappeared down the drain.

_Are they taking along a part of you?_

He tried to imagine it, to conjure an image of something that he didn't like and that was sticking to his skin. Was the water able to make it disappear? Maybe it wasn't as physical as he imagined it, not like a scratchy pullover made of the wrong fabric or dirt that stuck to his hands when he tried to save a small flower that somebody else considered a weed.

Maybe what the black swan and the letter attached to it were trying to tell him was something different entirely. Was it something human? Something that he couldn't understand because he wasn't one? The words on the letter were cryptic, but somehow, he could still imagine them. There was no light on in the bathroom, he had left it off and the minimal light that entered through the window was enough to identify the lines that separated him from the outside world. Maybe there were some more lines too, but those he couldn't see. Those he only knew were there.

Showering in the dark was different because there was nothing grasping his attention. There wasn't much to stimulate his eyes, or ears or skin. It was the perfect state that he needed to calm down or to finally fall asleep.

_But this isn't why you are here._

This time he wasn't sleeping. He was trying to listen to the water and understand what powers it had for the person living on the other side of the wall.

Focusing on the sound of water alone, he hummed briefly with his eyes closed. There was something pleasant to the lack of stimulation, to the regular sound of water dropping to the shower floor and disappearing. Maybe that was what they had meant, the washing away of things that the person wanted gone. It hadn't been physical, because there wasn't much to wash away in the first place. But the lack of light and sound apart from the dripping water was able to take away meaningless thoughts. Like this, it was possible to focus on a single thought while all the others that usually begged for attention remained silent.

He turned off the tap and stepped on the fluffy towel right next to the shower. It felt nice, so he curled his toes a few times before finally reaching for a big towel and drying his naked body. Being on his own meant that nobody could complain about his state of undress, so he threw the towel on a drying rack and thought about his answer.

_How does it feel to hear in the silence?_

Loud. It was so loud.

The silence was calming because nothing was louder than his thoughts. As soon as there was a single motion around him, his attention refocused on it. It could be the rustling of leaves as a bird settles on top of them, the sound of an engine turning on, the giggle of a little boy on his way to the playground, the squeaky brakes of a bicycle that a little girl kept pressing on. Even sounds that were too quiet for a human to hear resembled drums inside his head.

_You feel the same way now._

His alarm clock showed two, three, one and an eight. Several numbers past his sleeping time, but he had wanted to try a nightly shower once, a silent one while being surrounded by darkness. It wasn't like him to do that because of a letter by somebody he hadn't even seen before, but still he had wanted to try.

_You wanted to understand because he keeps giving you things and understanding is the least a human could do._

Understanding was also the hardest that he could do.

The air in the apartment still smelled like his candle and felt warm against his damp skin. He liked it even though he should have been asleep.

_If night wasn't the only time you can sleep, you would never sleep because you can think. Really think._

It must have been so easy for humans to simply turn off the sounds they didn't need, the constant talking, muttering, rustling. All of it. For him it was easiest to let it be and turn off himself when it got too much, like the computer that he worked at every day.

He sat down at his desk and stared at the white paper he had prepared. It was meant to contain his answer, but the answer wasn't quite ready yet. He had wanted to share his experience before answering the question.

_Writing is so much easier._

With writing there was time to reply, time to change a word and maybe get rid of the whole letter before starting anew. The misunderstandings on paper weren't as painful as they were in person, because there were no assumptions.

_The person behind the wall doesn't expect you to understand, so they explain._

'A nightly shower makes my thoughts so much louder,' he wrote as the first sentence and wondered if it made sense. 'Usually the world drowns out everything else, but in the dark with the sound of water I really feel like I'm alive.'

He drew a drop of water to distract himself as he thought about how to answer the question.

'You asked about hearing the silence. It is loud to me, deafening even. It's so loud that for once I don't feel distracted, like a buzzing that keeps you from hearing anything but itself. When there is only silence, I am able to think and to sleep. Whenever it is broken, those sounds return, and I feel a little less alive.'

_A little less human._

He smiled because he knew that he wasn't human in the first place, but looking like one meant that it was easy to fit in. When the noises were so loud that he could barely understand what people were saying, that was one of the moments he knew he was the only one like that, the only one who wasn't able to.

Chewing on his cheek, he added one last sentence to the paper, feeling nervous as he did so.

'Do you feel alive?'

Leaving the pen, he used on the desk, he folded the piece of paper twice before holding it to his chest. He was still undressed, but nobody was awake at this time apart from his neighbour next door. The door to his apartment remained open as he walked the few steps and slipped his letter under the dark door.

It felt exciting because he began to expect a reply, to learn more about the person behind the wall and why they were awake so late. Why they didn't sleep even though it was the only time that his eyes closed.

He returned to his familiar apartment and the scent of his candle. He wrapped his warm blanket around his naked body and lay on his pillow, listening to the silence.

Something screeched, stemming from behind the wall. He could hear it well, but even though it disrupted the silence and kept him from the sleep he yearned for, he didn't feel angry.

Because each step that he heard on the screeching wood, meant that it was a step closer towards a reply.

***

He bought a new lamp.

For some, it might have been a very small contribution to the present decor of the apartment, but for him it was essential. The light that he used during the night, during the time he was most productive, most thoughtful and most lonely was more than just a functional decoration. It was the music to his existence, pleasant and making the surroundings seem more familiar, uncovering a distinct beauty in every object, a balance between stimulation and calm.

Turning on said lamp, that he placed on the provided desk, he looked at the piece of paper describing the feelings of a stranger who had never seen or spoken to him directly, but who showered shortly after eleven to understand the way he felt. Sure, maybe it was a bit foolish to get emotionally invested in a pen pal who just wanted him to be quiet, but what else could he do at this time and place in his life? Think about things long lost and continue digging into reasons that he knew would make him feel worse?

He couldn’t afford hanging around and writing all night every single day, so he had applied to work for a scientific study that used writings for some kind of data analysis and hoped that it would cover his living expenses at least a bit, so he could stay where he was until maybe… maybe enough time passed so he would feel less wronged and could fix it.

As so often, his thoughts were about to take the same path towards an answer that simply wasn’t there or was not the one he wanted to hear, and he stopped them in time by looking at those messily scribbled words on the paper in front of him. The small piece of excuse, the time out from reality that he learned to cherish and looked forward to.

He liked the description of how it made the person on the other side of the wall feel to shower in the night, but eleven p.m. wasn’t really night. Not for him. As someone who knew the night better than anything else, he could tell that there was a major difference between shortly before midnight and four a.m.

_The time feels less real and you feel less real the longer it is night, the further your thoughts take you and day seems too far away to grasp or believe in._

The lack of silence must’ve overwhelmed them, the person on the other side of the wall. But despite him breaking the silence, they wanted to know if he felt alive.

_Did anybody ever ask you that?_

He couldn’t remember ever replying because if he did, wouldn’t he remember the answer? There was no answer and it took another hour or two as he sat on the uncomfortable chair and stared at the blank piece of paper, trying to think of how to respond. He wanted to respond so badly because it somehow felt like it mattered. To him and to the person asking.

‘I meant to ask you before, but thinking you are a child, I haven’t. Doesn’t it feel unusual to write to some guy next door you’ve never met? I have never done anything similar, and it’s a little exciting because it seems like you don’t expect anything from me. Apart from silence, I assume. I heard you take a shower in the evening and it makes me happy to know that it made you feel more alive. I am also sorry for making you feel less alive with the sounds that I can’t help making during the night. I must admit that for me…’ he stopped and looked at the letters he had written, tracing the shadow of his pen with his gaze before smiling to himself and adding: ‘...for me many things are different. You asked whether I feel alive and I’m not sure that I have a definitive reply to that. I can only say that I sometimes do, but when I do, nobody can hear. Nobody but you.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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CHAPTER 2

_“What if I end up alone? Humans don't like me because I'm not one of them."_

_“You won't end up alone. I promise.”_

_

When his feet finally crossed the boundary between the outside world and his familiar home, his vision was too blurry to remember why he had yearned to return so badly. He lay with his head on the fluffy carpet in the hallway and counted the holes for laces in each of his shoes. Once he counted them all, he began to add them up, then subtract and then count all over again until the world didn't seem as blurry anymore.

The day had taken his energy again, sucked it out of him like an iced coffee through a straw. The difference was that he had been a warm coffee, blazing hot even at the beginning of the day. But over time the strength that he needed to pretend to be human faded away and he ended up being himself, a being that wasn't from this world and ended up lying on the carpet without a coherent word to say.

_A being with unmoving lips._

His mind and senses worked like that. They were fast, but easily overloaded, so as soon as his eight-hour workday ended, there wasn't much left of him, nothing beyond the shell of a smile that he slowly tried to fill with scented candles, regular hums and as a highlight, a handwritten letter.

_The letter you've been waiting to read._

He had almost forgotten about the little treasure that he hadn't allowed himself to look at before going to work. He had really wanted to but knowing that there were words addressed to him waiting at home was a great motivation to get through the day. It had kept him sane throughout, a pleasant image like the shower that washed everything bad from the body of the person on the other side of the wall.

The work he did was enjoyable, so he was lucky compared to how a lot of humans lived, but unlike them he barely had the strength to keep breathing their oxygen and listening to their sounds.

_But this letter makes it so much better._

He sat up on the carpet and blinked a few times to get rid of the blurriness. The ability to focus was crucial in being able to follow the delicate lines of each word and combine the meaning into sentences. His eyes hurried from one line to the next, excitement growing with each piece of additional information that he acquired. The person behind the wall was a man, a man that also treasured the letters for a similar reason.

_There is no need to pretend. Neither of you can see the other, so you write whatever is on your mind._

He wasn't as careless about sharing that he wasn't human as he had been as a child, but this time it was different. It wasn't just about him and his inability to fit in, because the human behind his wall was somebody that didn't expect him to ask about the weather, to pay attention to his face and to make the right conclusions from his words. Instead of expectations there were thoughts and somehow, he couldn't get enough of them.

_He must feel alive at night, the way you do when it is silent._

The importance of the night was so fascinating to him because he never experienced it, not for long enough to leave a lasting impression. To him the night was a time of peace and regeneration, the time when the iced coffee could turn into a fresh cup of hot coffee again.

_Only to be drunk again._

He got up from the carpet and only belatedly realised that he hadn't even taken off his shoes.

_The letter pulled you in._

It was a blessing in disguise, so he held it to his chest to keep it safe as he undressed quickly and finally sat down at his desk. There were so many things he could have written, but he wanted to formulate them well. Even if there were no expectations, he wanted to put in the effort and show that he was trying to understand.

'I wish I could understand how much the night means to you. It must be a magical time, like a space between reality and one's head,' he wrote while trying to imagine such a parallel space. Maybe that was the space he came from, not quite earth. 'I have never written to anybody like this. Writing isn't my strength, and neither is talking. Somehow, I never find the right words to explain how I feel. There is a secret behind words that I have never been able to discover.'

Sighing, he thought about the hours he spent reading poetry, attempting to understand but being unable to. How could he create something that was able to create in return, if there was nothing he could create himself?

_You can't even understand it._

'I read a poem today, but I still do not understand what it is telling me. There seems to be something hidden in the words, but I cannot find it,' he added before writing down the poem at the bottom of the page. It didn't have anything to do with the night or feeling alive, but maybe the man with the beautiful handwriting and the desire to write to him would be able to explain.

_Explain without showing you how much you don't belong._

'Soaping together, is sacred to us. Washing each other's shoulders. You can fuck anyone - but with whom can you sit in water?' the poem said, and the importance of water was just as difficult to understand as it had been in relation to a nightly shower. This time it wasn't about cleaning and somehow it wasn't about sex either, because the poem talked about the water being better than sex.

There was still space on the page, so he decided to add some scribbles and finally a few more lines.

'I am a man too (kind of) and I have never been in a situation as described in the poem. Is taking a bath together that pleasurable?'

He would have never shown his lack of understanding in person, but like this, sharing it with his pen and a person he has never met felt safe somehow.

Smiling to himself in excitement, he tried to fold a plane out of his letter. It didn't really work because the sides weren't equal, but it wasn't as boring as just a piece of paper. His neighbour had put in all that work into his letters before and he wanted to return it somehow.

The trip to the door next to his was quick this time, just a few seconds for him to slip the letter under the door and return to his bedroom, sitting on the bed and listening.

_Don't you love the silence?_

He did, but somehow the interruptions he had gotten used to were welcome. He listened intently to the screeching of the bed, loud and clear as the man behind the wall stood up and walked to the door. Each step was perfectly audible, and he imagined what his neighbour might look like, walking on those wooden boards all the way to pick up his letter. The steps sounded again, this time returning to the bed and as a finish the screeching noise repeated.

_You already know the sound by heart._

The blood was pumping loudly in his ears, excitement showing because he knew that there was a person right behind that wall reading his letter. There was a human who was interested in what he had to say, his thoughts and his questions. It seemed so close, but he didn't feel pressured to act or to smile. There were no fears of reacting too strongly, doing or saying something that was considered strange. He didn't have to do anything at all. Sitting on his bed with his arms wrapped around his knees, he was able to simply listen to fingers grasping paper and to regular breaths if he moved close enough.

_You can observe and listen without having to participate._

A few of the smaller numbers moved on his alarm clock, one-two, one-three, one-four and then there was a sound. A low voice that chuckled right behind the wall. It resembled a warm blanket that wrapped around him and made him feel hot from the inside.

_You made him chuckle._

He smiled widely and wiggled his toes, wondering if that sound was really his doing. The warmth that had begun at his ears and was now spreading throughout his body along with his blood was unfamiliar, but so so pleasant. He wanted to wrap his fingers around it and hold on, keep it close to his ear to be able to listen to it repeatedly. The chuckle seemed real, but it hadn't even lasted a whole number, only a few seconds before repeating inside his mind instead. He hadn't imagined it, had he?

_He thinks you are funny. In a nice way._

Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, he crawled closer towards the wall and leaned his head against it. It was silent, the sound he enjoyed the most at night, but he didn't feel at peace. His heart was beating firmly in his rib cage and his face felt hot with a mixture of excitement and happiness. He should have been sleeping, basking in the silence for as long as he was able to, but he couldn't. Not yet.

Instead he was waiting and patiently listening to each inhale and exhale, again and again as he longed to hear that same chuckle.

***

Wasn't it interesting, how the sounds of a lock sliding back and brief touches of naked feet on the wooden panels on the staircase made him feel excited, staring at the space under his door and smiling when a piece of paper appeared, like a present for the night. It was unusual, but so calm at the same time. Neither of them tried to meet the other, intrude upon the respective personal space and break the straightforward honesty that developed between them. Because of that, there was nothing to lose and nothing to gain, they just wrote until there were no words they needed to say anymore.

He didn't deny his involvement, for that, his honesty had been a too heavy an argument, but wasn't it easier if the connection was written words? No touches, no tears, no spoken accusations and big eyes saying so much more and hurting more. There was none of that and he was thankful because he could answer when the words were right, he could think about what he wanted to say, and he could take the time to really understand. To try to understand as someone tried to understand in return.

When he picked up the letter and returned to his spot on the bed where he had been reading before, he unfolded the paper under the warm light of his table lamp, feeling excited and full of joy at the many words that he could let flow through his mind, create associations with, understand and respond to.

A stranger, somebody who has never seen him or talked to him, wished to understand his curse and his blessing, the one entity that pulled him in, let him breathe and didn't let him live at the same time. The night. It was hard to explain what he felt reading those words, but he knew how important they felt to him. He forged meaning into those messily written letters and felt less alone, even though he was, and he knew.

Next, came a mention of a personal struggle and he was the most suited person to help because it was about understanding words. Words and their arrangement in poems. Inhaling, he had so much to say but he decided to read until the end first, taking in the beautiful poem and reading the next few lines. A bright grin appeared on his face and he felt so elated that a low chuckle escaped his lips when he read about his neighbour being 'kind of a man' and wondering about the extent of pleasure coming from taking a bath with another person.

Holding the paper carefully between his fingers, he read the scribbled words over and over again and decided to reply because there was so much that he felt and wanted to say, but standing up was loud, so he breathed regularly, before trying to make his way to the desk without making a sound but failing and probably annoying his neighbour who was simply trying to sleep.

The damage was done and the only thing he could do was to repeatedly apologize for being noisy, so he did, first thing before working himself through the words and writing down his thoughts one after another until a letter came out.

'First, I'm sorry for being noisy, I moved the couch to the other side of the wall but ended up on the bed when I read your letter. I'll pay attention next time. I promise.

It might not be something one hears often from strangers, but your wish to understand what the night means to me feels good and made me happy, simply because nobody ever asked. Maybe I will be able to explain it to you someday, if you feel like it. I would love to know what it means to you to hear everything, even the silence and if there's a distinct reason as to why you don't like talking or writing.

You don't have to write to me, I promise you that nothing will happen if you don't. But I will gladly accept it if you do, because your perspective excites me. Thinking about it, there is a difference between words and assigning meaning to them. Words by themselves are clear and straightforward, but one can play with them, hide something or uncover it, one can use words to make someone feel good or bad, but the words by themselves are clear, the ones who use them are not. Humans are not clear about their use of words.

Words are my second life line after being an inhabitant of the night, so I would love to try and explain the poem you mentioned. It's very beautiful in my opinion. What I see when I read it is intimacy. It's the feeling that you could be sexual with anybody, but it's a different sensation if you carefully soap their shoulders when you both move together in the water, how you would look at each other and how it would feel, so different from what one knows. You wouldn't take a bath with just anybody because there is so much more to see, to touch, not only the skin but also the intimacy in the gaze, the tingling from kisses, the way the scent infiltrates your senses when delicate fingers stroke along your skin and the soap leaves a trace, melting into your shoulder along with the warm touch, so to reply to your last question, it can be a very pleasant experience to take a bath with someone.

Would that seem strange to you?

P.S. I wrote a little poem for you and tried to keep it as clear as possible.

'You sleep. You hear. I can't. I don't. And still...''

He finished up with three dots, stroking over the dried ink and feeling determined to share the letter after the person on the other side of the wall fell asleep. Why? Because he was concerned about too much noise and really didn't want his neighbour, someone he had never seen or spoken to, to feel less alive because of him.

***

Soft fabric between his fingers, heat on his cheeks and finally the familiar white ceiling. His eyes were open, but still he couldn't see much of his room. Only shadows were present and danced from one dark corner to the next.

A glance at his alarm clock revealed the reason. Four, three and two. It was in the middle of the night and still several hours before his usual wakeup time.

_Was it him?_

There must have been a noise, something that pulled him from his sleep, but the heat in his cheeks suggested that it could have been a dream too.

_One that you don't remember anymore._

He smiled because he couldn't tell if it was pleasant or not. Not knowing was better sometimes because the bad one couldn't stay with him throughout the day and the good one didn't make him wish to escape reality. The benefit of not remembering was that he felt just like he had before, like himself but with slightly warmer cheeks.

Sitting up, he glanced around to check if anything had changed over the time he was asleep, but everything had stayed the same. His blanket was still tousled and the dark outlines of the clothes he had worn the day before still lay close to the bed. Next, he hurried to the bathroom to relieve himself and stole a brief glance at the shower, wondering if showering at four, three and two felt different. The man behind the wall made it seem like it was and maybe he would have to do the same someday, follow suit as soon as the sound of water woke him up from his sleep.

_You're even willing to sacrifice sleep?_

His neighbour sacrificed too, didn't he? He tried to understand, asked questions and he even chuckled at his letter.

_He must have written you a reply._

His fingers pressed the flush with so much force that the sound of water hurt his ears a little. He sprinted to his front door and knelt on the fluffy carpet, hands tapping all over the floor to see if there was a letter for him. As soon as his fingers landed on soft paper, his heart skipped a beat and he giggled.

His right palm was quick to cover his mouth as his eyes widened. He was the one who cared the most about the rules, but at the same time he carelessly giggled in the middle of the night. Even if his neighbour had a good reason for not sleeping, he didn't.

_Because you need it to pretend the next day._

Trying to be quiet, he tip-toed his way back to the bed and sat down, alarm clock held close enough to the words to enable him to read them.

There was an apology and before he would have been satisfied with it and wouldn't have bothered to read the rest of the letter. Now his feelings had changed and the excitement that reading those words evoked was difficult to contain. He didn't mind the noise anymore, because it was a reaction to him, a little secret that he could observe without being part of it.

_It's like knowing the effect your words have in somebody else's head._

Speaking and hearing a reply was one thing but writing and listening to the other person react behind a wall, while they didn't feel observed, was something different entirely.

_You like it so much._

His neighbour's view on words seemed so clear and easy to understand, like an explanation that he had been missing all this time. The words weren't at fault, but the meaning that humans were hiding within them. He didn't have the skill to unwrap the words and see the core, so the words stayed the same to him, with only one meaning that he was able to understand.

_He must be able to see so many meanings._

It sounded fascinating, as if the man behind the wall could understand words in the same way that he could see. Instead of a landscape, he saw every single detail that was part of that scenery, the mountain, the trees, but especially the leaves of the trees, the stones on the ground, the colour of a small bush partially hidden behind a house. All those things didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, to the big picture, but he was only able to find the little things and build his reality from them.

_Just like you build sentences, but the complete meaning escapes you._

He shifted on his bed and pulled his legs closer to his chest to let the alarm clock rest on his knees and provide him with more light. He had been just about to read the interpretation of the poem when there was an unfamiliar sound from the other side of the wall, a little louder than usual but not quite a breath.

_Is he still awake?_

Holding his breath, he let his behind glide over the blanket to get closer to the wall. He didn't want to disturb his neighbour, but he wanted to listen and to understand what he was doing. He wanted to know why the man on the other side couldn’t sleep while it was so easy for him to close his eyes as soon as the darkness and silence took over everything else.

_Only your excitement doesn't allow you to sleep._

The sounds that he heard most clearly were breaths, inhales and exhales that were not regular as they should have been. An inhale lasted longer, a few numbers switched on his alarm clock and the exhale was rough, like the air left those lungs all at once, in only one second just to fill with air again. When he moved closer to the wall to hear more, there were motions, the rustling of sheets and just a little screeching of the bed.

At first, he tried to think of a reason to hold one's breath, to exhale all at once instead of breathing gradually. Remaining quiet was a reason. When he wanted to keep everything around him silent as a child, he had always covered his ears and held his breath to leave nothing but the rushing of blood in his ears. But the motions didn't fit and neither did the fact that there wasn't even a single second of absolute silence.

_He's moving and breathing irregularly._

His cheeks grew hotter and he pressed his side against the wall, alarm clock still resting on his knees as he attached his ear to the tapestry and held his own breath, listening intently.

The rhythm was messy and suddenly there was more, a warm, low sound that came with an additional rough exhale.

_A moan._

His whole body froze as if terrified that he would be discovered, but that couldn't happen. He was on his bed in his apartment and whatever was happening behind the wall was exactly there, behind the wall. His neighbour had spoken of sometimes feeling alive during the night, when nobody was able to hear, nobody but him.

_Is this what he had meant?_

His cheeks heated up and even though he knew that there would be repercussions if anybody knew, he basked in the fact that nobody did. There was somebody feeling bliss right behind that wall, pleasure that wasn't meant for him and had nothing to do with him, but still he was able to participate somehow, to listen and to learn how pleasure could change breaths, how limbs might move over the sheets to make it feel even better, possibly spreading thighs apart and evoking another one of those low sounds he had been listening to.

_It sounds beautiful, beautifully secret._

Swallowing because his mouth felt dry, he kept his ear pressed to the wall and glanced back down at the letter in his hands. The explanation of the poem was next, a lengthy description of what it might feel like to be intimate with another person. He wished that he knew what it felt like, what intimacy could evoke in somebody like him, a person that wasn't one. Would it feel as intense as observing somebody feel pleasure, as listening to somebody pleasure themselves? Was it similar?

The man on the other side of the wall had a skill with words, an ability to arrange them so that images appeared in front of his eyes as soon as he closed them. He imagined water running down his shoulders and body, pooling at his feet before it disappeared into the drain. He imagined soft fingertips on his shoulder, applying just enough pressure that he was able to enjoy it, tender but increasing in strength as they slipped down his arm. It wasn't a sexual touch per se, but the way he imagined it was, how warm breaths tickled the shell of his ear as one of those low sounds followed, causing heat to travel to his groin and spread from there.

Hearing the rough exhales of another person made it so much easier to pretend that he wasn't alone, that there was somebody running their hands over his body and leaving a soapy trace, just the way it had been described in the letter. Would the trace feel as warm as a hand did? Would he miss it as soon as it was gone?

He couldn't tell, but he missed the exhales and rapid breaths as soon as they stopped and so did the rustling of the sheets. His eyes opened, and he was met with the sight of the letter in his hands, shaking a little because now he was the one feeling breathless. Breathless and aroused beyond belief.

Since he never bothered with underwear there was even a thin line connecting his thigh and the tip of his erection when he finally moved his legs back and let the alarm clock drop on the blanket next to him. His blood was so loud in his ears and somehow the noises in his head had managed to overshadow the noises around him, the sound of somebody standing up from a bed that screeched less than before.

_You need to answer him, now._

He couldn't quite explain why he had to write the answer now, but somehow, he felt like it would be most genuine that way. Standing up from the bed, he almost ran against the corner of his desk as he hurriedly looked for a piece of paper and a pen.

There wasn't enough light to write, so he moved closer to the window, hoping that the moon could aid him in his attempt at an answer. Usually he wouldn't have bothered and simply turned on the lights, but it was still late and somehow, he felt like turning on the lights would make it impossible to understand what the letters were trying to show him. The feeling that the night evoked couldn't be understood by impersonating day.

'Don't apologize,' he wrote first, because it was the first thing he had thought while reading the letter. 'I am not sure whether you can understand, but listening to somebody else be there, live there, so close but at the same time not quite there, feels less alone. Like having company without the pressure of being company myself.

You asked why I do not enjoy talking or writing. You have already explained it so well. To me words only have one meaning and I see them on their own. I play puzzles and put the pieces together in the hope to say what I want to say. Most of the time it doesn't work, and people misunderstand, so it seems better to remain quiet and to observe. It is how I try to learn. I am thankful that you are able to make me learn through your words.'

He inhaled sharply and thought back to the arousal that listening and imagining the touch had created in him. The way the man behind the wall was able to phrase his sentences created images inside his head. There was no need to take apart the words because they simply arranged into a motion, a feeling, a warm hand on his shoulder and the trace of soap.

'When I said the silence makes me feel alive, I must not have known the way your voice is able to make me feel alive. Thank you for letting me feel 'intimacy', even if it was just inside my head.'

He stared at the words and wondered if they were too much. After all, he had been told countless times to be less genuine about thoughts like this, but this was the only time that he didn't have to pretend, wasn't it? The person behind the wall didn't know him and he didn't know them either. They merely exchanged impressions and truths, and, in the end, it was up to them whether they wanted to keep sharing them or not.

'I cannot write poems, but maybe I am able to put myself into the words you wrote,' he wrote finally and closed his eyes for a few moments, again thinking back to the way he had felt while reading the letter.

'You write, you understand, I can't, I don't, but still…'

_Still he somehow makes you._

***

His breaths still sounded rough, even when he breathed through his nose, but he tried to be as quiet as possible when he held onto the headrest of the bed, stabilizing it with as much strength as possible to reduce the screeching to a minimum and stood up to get rid of the tissues in the garbage under the sink. His body and thoughts felt a bit blurry, but he knew it would get so much clearer in a few minutes. Clear enough for him to look at his phone again and check if he had hallucinated a message and got bitter over nothing.

He hadn’t. The words were still there, short, selfish and cruel. ‘I hope you are doing fine.’ No questions, no need to get a reply and no interest. Just a selfish attempt at action with the sole purpose of feeling better. She hoped he was doing fine. That couldn’t have been the truth. The truth would’ve sounded somewhere along the lines of: ‘I don’t feel comfortable with the possibility of you hating me, but at the same time, I don’t care enough to do anything about it.’

‘I’m not doing fine, but has it ever been a perspective you were ready to accept?’ he typed, but deleted letter after letter until there was only a long vertical line blinking, like a thought process, like there was something that needed to be said, but what was the point if there was nothing he could have written? There were no words this time because he, no matter what happened that day, couldn’t find out his wrongdoings, his own contribution to the outcome. He had simply watched it, observed it like a ghost, a person whom it didn’t concern. How could it have concerned him if it didn’t make sense and continued making no sense at all? Although his thoughts sounded bitter, it seemed like she had been waiting for a moment like that. A moment of confusion and helplessness to discard him and everything else, to take her favourite nail polish and just…

Just when the bitterness was about to return full force, there was a sound, a sound on the other side of the wall. The distinct noise the lock made when his neighbour opened the door.

_He’s awake? Why?_

His heart started beating faster and louder when he heard a step, then another one until they stopped in front of his door and he stared down at the space under it, waiting and exhaling when a white piece of folded paper was pushed through.

_You're so excited, but he probably can't sleep because of you._

Suddenly, his cheeks started burning thinking about the reason why his neighbour could've been awake. Had he been reckless and loud? He had tried to be as quiet as possible, but if the person on the other side of the wall could hear in silence, then his sounds were so much louder than that. So loud that he heard it. All of it.

_Great._

He waited until the steps disappeared and he heard the lock once again before quickly walking to the door and picking up the letter. He imagined that it was warm, but probably he felt that way because of the light of his table lamp, after touching himself and thinking about another person being able to listen to the whole thing. Did he have to be more careful and considerate? He decided to wait until he had some feedback on whether his neighbour felt disturbed by it.

Unfolding the paper felt scarier today, maybe because of the time, four was more pressuring than midnight, but maybe it was because of the message he had received and was scared to feel the same way, losing the escape that made him feel better during the past few days.

Still he did, hungrily reading those words, reading and feeling blessed to know more about the person with the terrible handwriting because it seemed so honest and raw. He immediately took his favourite fine tipped pen and a piece of paper, writing the first thing he had written to his neighbour once again.

'What is a sound in an eternity of silence. Remember? That's precisely what I meant when I wrote it. Exactly what you wrote to me just now. I meant that if the silence is eternal and you hear a sound, it means that you are not alone. You are not because I'm here and even though I can't perceive sensations as well as you, I can hear you unlock your door and the sound of your feet when you walk to my door and it excites me so much.'

When he read further to be able to write more, his cheeks warmed up again. He was right about his neighbour waking up and listening to his self-loving session. He was sorry but then again, he wasn't because it didn't seem to matter. Because the person on the other side of the wall thanked him for making him feel intimacy. Maybe he meant the poem or maybe it was about the sound of his voice, but whatever it was, it made him feel a warm and special kind of way.

'Do you like the sound of my voice?' he wrote out slowly, unsure if it was okay to ask it. In the end he left it on the paper. Their letters had been honest, and he decided to keep it. 'Everybody deserves to feel intimacy and I'm overwhelmed to have given that feeling to you. I would love to explain more if there is something that you would like to know. Wrapping and unwrapping meaning in words is what I love doing the most.'

He looked at the black delicate letters and words that he put onto paper and decided to add something that he felt like the person on the other side of the wall should know. Something that he wanted him to know.

'Even if you have a hard time finding the right words to say and maybe also understanding mine, your letter, the words that you shared with me, saved my night and that means the world to me right now. Thank you.'

***

The same white ceiling, the same grey patches on it and finally the same familiar numbers on his alarm clock. Everything was just as it was supposed to be, the night was over, his eyes opened and as he did for three days out of seven, he had to prepare for work.

_Nothing changed._

The intimacy he had experienced in the middle of the night seemed far away now, but even though everything was the same, his routine wasn't.

He stood up as always, but instead of relieving himself and brushing his teeth, he sat down at his desk and took out a small box. It wasn't special, just a brown wooden thing that could be closed with a rusty key. He had received it as a present when he turned ten and since then he hadn't bothered to use anything else for objects that mattered to him.

This time it wasn't really an object, but simply a sheet of paper with twenty-five boxes on it. Twenty-four of them already had a sad smiley drawn inside them and today was the day that he finally drew the last one. It was an especially sad one with dot eyes and a mouth that was turned so upside down that the edges almost reached the line of the face.

_It's over now. You didn't manage on your own._

His grandma would say that he hadn't really been trying in the first place, but he had, in his own way. Being different meant that one had to play according to different rules. He was the elephant that had to climb a tree along with the monkey to compete and be considered normal. He was a runner with a broken leg, but somehow nobody but him could see it.

'Why aren't you running faster?' he would keep hearing in his head, but why would anybody believe him if they couldn’t see his predicament?

His lips trembled briefly as he stared at the twenty-fifth smiley, but he glanced away and ripped the sheet without looking. There was no point staring at it. Time had passed, and his chances had run out. Maybe he had tried, but he hadn't tried enough to achieve something.

_This is it. You knew this moment would come, but somehow you hoped that it wouldn't._

He stood up from his desk and smiled at his scrawny reflection, the reflection of a human-looking being who had turned one year older physically but hadn't moved a single step forward, only backwards.

_You still don't belong, do you?_

Animals assimilated and so did humans. Humans were able to live anywhere and under almost any conditions. They still built communities, found partners and lived on, so why wasn't he able to do that? Why wasn't he given the skill of assimilation at birth, the skill to blend into the human world and become like one of them?

_There's no point reminiscing about what could have been._

Closing his eyes, he stepped into the shower and turned on the water. He imagined it washing away his thoughts and all his struggles, all those years that he hadn't achieved anything. He imagined stepping out of the shower as a new person, somebody without regret, but it was only an image.

In reality, he was still himself. He was still an alien that prepared to go to his human work after twenty-five years of not being able to fit in. An alien that despite all efforts to understand and build intimacy, was left on his own. Lonely.

His routine continued, clothes attached to his body and this time, when he looked at the mirror, he looked like a human. Somebody who could smile and understand what was going on in other's minds and had the right words to say. He was somebody who could do that, but still ended up alone because pretending to be a human for a few hours just wasn't enough.

_Because humans don't want weirdness. They want normality._

Just when he was about to walk out of the apartment at eight, three and zero, his eyes fell on a white note on his fluffy carpet.

_He answered._

All the excitement of the past night returned to turn to him as he knelt and unfolded the letter. The other man's writing was so delicate and pleasant to look at. With one letter he had even traced each line with a red pen to improve his ability to write his own, but still he couldn't compare to the flow with which each letter connected to the next.

_An eternity of silence._

Suddenly, it made sense to him. The silence was the only thing around him, uninterrupted and filling out his nights. But now a sound had joined in, a sound that wasn't produced by him, but by another being, a human. A sound in his eternal silence meant that for once he wasn't alone and the man writing him that letter couldn't imagine how much it meant to him.

_Especially today._

He ran to his desk and grabbed a paper and a pen. There wasn't much time until he would be late for work, but he had to reply, even if it was brief.

'You said that I saved your night. Well, you have saved my day. I can't thank you enough. I don't know if you have ever felt like you are damned to an existence on your own, but it is a feeling I have every day. Maybe it comes with the inability to unwrap meaning the way you do. People need understanding that I am unable to provide, not in the way they need it.

Maybe I can take a shower at night and understand the way everything bad leaves you the way bad thoughts leave my head, but will I ever really understand? Probably not, because I will never be you and I will never be inside your head.'

He glanced at the ceiling for a moment, wondering if it was right to burden somebody with thoughts he never dared to share.

'Your presence gives me comfort. It makes me feel like there is another person that exists next to me and cares about the things I write, chuckles about some of my thoughts and shares their own.'

_It's enough. He's not going to save you from your destiny, someone else will._

Smiling, he returned his gaze to his letter and wrote a last sentence, answering the one question that was left.

'The sound of your voice in combination with your words was the sole reason I could feel what you meant by intimacy. To be honest, my body still reacts when I think about it. What was on your mind when you let me hear your exhales?'

A meaningless scribble appeared in the corner of his letter as he thought about adding something else, but in the end, he folded it the way it was and took it along as he left the apartment. His neighbour was probably asleep when he slipped it under his door, but he knew that as soon as he returned, unable to focus on a single thing, another letter would be there to pull him out of it.

_You're alone, but at least there's a sound in the eternity of silence._

_

The blanket felt rough under his knees because of how often he had changed his position, shifting back and forth as he reread the small note in his hands. It wasn't an answer to his letter as he had hoped for, but the single sentence made his heart skip a beat the same way a letter would have.

_Come to the wall at 10 p.m._

His alarm clock read nine, five and eight and he had been sitting in this position on his bed since eight, two and two. There had been nothing else on his mind after returning from work and the way his fingers tugged at the skin between his index finger and thumb was a poor distraction.

The emptiness was filled with noises that he listened to, noises that helped him to bridge the time between the moment he fell on his carpet and struggled to focus and the moment he was waiting for since reading the note.

_Does he want to show you something? Will you be able to hear his voice?_

He was so excited that even the shreds of paper that still lay on his bedroom floor couldn’t calm his breathing.

_Can he hear as much as you do? Does he know that you can barely breathe because of his note?_

There was something terrifying to it too, the communication they had established could break with a single word, an exchange that wasn't written on paper meant he could make a mistake again.

_What if you ruin it again?_

The alarm clock showed two twos and two zeros, and he held his breath, waiting for the low voice in his eternity of silence.

Instead of a voice there was a knock, two times, followed by silence. The person on the other side was probably checking if he was there, where he was supposed to be. He wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was, so he just mirrored the knocks, heart beating in his ears and holding his breath.

_He's there, behind that wall, listening._

The silence was interrupted by a low sound of his neighbour clearing his throat before the sound moved closer to the wall and the same low voice started singing quietly.

“Happy birthday to you… happy birthday to you… happy birthday special person, happy birthday to you,” it sang followed by another brief chuckle, low and warm.

_Special person. He called you a special person._

He didn't know what to say in return and didn't even dare to breathe, too scared of missing another second of that pleasant voice. When he wrote that it made him feel, he hadn't lied because it did. Not only because of feeling pleasure but also because of the meaning behind those words.

_He knows, somehow, he knows and even though you don't even know him it means so much._

Instead of another word or an exhale, he heard the bed screech and steps, the lock and his gaze immediately wandered towards the entrance, where he saw a piece of paper, folded in the shape of a flower and probably containing words. He walked towards the door and picked it up, fingers shaking because he was so nervous. He didn't want to break it, wasn't it too beautiful to break?

At the same time, he was too curious about what was written inside. What could the man behind the wall be telling him on his twenty-fifth birthday?

Turning the flower around, he pulled it closer to his face, unfolded it as carefully as he was able to and started reading.

‘I by chance found out that it’s your birthday today and wanted to sing you a birthday song, I hope you liked it.'

He nodded even though nobody could see. No words came to his mind to describe the warmth that made him feel as if there was a thick blanket around him and nobody could hurt him. It was the soft type, the one that felt so good on his skin that he never wanted to let go.

How was a person he didn't even know able to make him feel like that with a few written words? Words and a simple song. A song and calling him special, a special person.

'Was it a quiet day? I hope that you didn’t have to talk or write anything today and could simply be yourself in a calm and most beautiful silence.

I'm wondering, did my singing make you feel less lonely? Because I too, feel less lonely knowing that you exist next to me.

P.S. This might be the most unacceptable birthday card I’ve ever written, but I must admit that reading about your reaction and you asking what I thought when I accidentally let you listen to my self-love session makes me want to know more about your reaction, and I’m not sure how to feel about simply telling you that. Happy Birthday to you, special person. H.’

He fumbled with the flower and bit down on his bottom lip to contain a smile. The letter made him so happy even though if somebody asked him why, he wouldn't have known what to say. It was everything about it. The flower shape, the fact that there was a human out there who knew exactly what made him happy. A human who knew that he hoped for quiet and not having to explain himself, that throughout the whole day he struggled to not be misunderstood while repeatedly reminding himself why he was alone.

The man behind the wall, H, he knew more about him than anybody else did. He understood what nobody else ever bothered to understand and somehow, even though the letter said that he shouldn't have to write anything on his birthday, he really wanted to. He wanted to, because it was to a special person.

He returned to his room and grabbed another white sheet of paper to fill it with words. He had probably written more in the past few days than he had in the last two years. Smiling to himself, he grabbed a simple black pen and drew a tiny heart in the corner of the page because he felt so happy.

'The best moment of today is now,' he began and couldn't contain himself and pressed a kiss to the paper. The sound was loud, and he hoped it wouldn't seem strange in case the person on the other side heard. 'You made me so happy with that song. Not only because you knew, but because while my whole day was filled with noise and me having to talk and pretend, you are the only one who I want to talk to. I'm writing to you now because I want to and not because I feel forced to do so.'

His legs were restless and moved up and down as he tried to find the right words to express himself. He wanted to be understood so badly, to keep this feeling that he assumed must be intimacy. Did intimacy feel like this?

'Is this intimacy?' he wrote finally, 'Can the way we talk, and share be called intimacy? I've never experienced it, so I cannot be sure. If intimacy feels as good as you described, then this must be it. You made me happy today.'

The only bit he hadn't answered was the last one and he grinned briefly, finding it cute that his companion was embarrassed about self-love. He had never called it self-love before. Maybe that ability also came with the power to control words.

'You have such beautiful words for everything. Listening to you yesterday got me aroused because I was also reading your letter and imagining what it might be like to bathe with somebody else and have hands on my shoulders and body as you described. Your voice made it seem like somebody was right there next to me. I've never imagined like that before, so I was also rather surprised by my reaction and the stickiness against my thighs. Your voice is very sexy.'

_Was that too much?_

In person he would have never said it because people either got angry or blushed very hard and told him aggressively to stop saying things like that. On paper it seemed easier and if he was lucky, he might be able to listen to the reaction through the wall.

_But you cannot end it like this._

Listening to the warmth and happiness in his chest, he decided to add another bit of honesty, showing the addressee of his letter how much this meant to somebody like him.

'P.S. You're the best birthday present I ever got. Your companion on the other side of the wall, H.'

He didn't even wait to fold the letter decently and hurried towards the door and outside before slipping it under his neighbour's door. His feet were quick to carry him back to his bed and he almost threw himself on top to be quick enough to hear those familiar steps on the wooden boards as they walked to the door to pick up his letter. He was so excited to hear the reaction, to know if the letter would be read on the bed or somewhere else.

He heard his birthday present settle himself on the bed, as if aware that he would be listening and let the piece of furniture screech in full volume before it got quiet as he must’ve begun reading. Another chuckle sounded behind the thin wall and he smiled as it disappeared again. The person on the other side shifted on the bed and he heard a gasp. A single sound of sucking in air and a word that sounded a bit like ‘holy’ that his neighbour hissed out loud.

_He's cute._

He chuckled out loud in response before covering his lips with his palms quickly, aware that it was probably audible through the wall. One didn't need to have superior hearing to identify a chuckle, especially if it sounded as raw as his.

For a moment he wondered if it had been too much after all, but the gasp hadn't sounded negative but rather surprised. Still, he wasn't a good judge of character, so he pressed his ear to the wall and hoped to hear something that told him if his neighbour was still going to keep writing to him.

_You need it. You need it so much to get through the day._

He heard another screech, steps and a chair being pulled back, which meant that he was going to get a reply.

_You didn't ruin it. He will still answer._

Sighing in relief, he let himself fall back on his bed and wrapped his arms around the blanket, listening to the repeated scratching of a pen on paper.

The first nightly sound he found himself looking forward to, every day.

***

Did it feel strange to sing happy birthday to a wall? To be honest, less so than he would’ve thought. There was shifting, and he heard feet when he had pushed the folded blue flower into the apartment next door. It wasn’t the type of reaction that he was used to, the attempts to combine his thoughts and interpretations with words and the look on the face of the person he was talking to.

_It's different, but you like it so much._

Their interactions, the way they got close was so much deeper because there was no face, no voice and no picture inside his head when he first read the messily written exclamation marks, when he continued with short words and then sentences, before he, finally and right now, held a whole letter in his hands.

_It feels like a development._

Some might have considered him ridiculous for being so insanely happy about the tiny heart in the top corner of the paper, for smiling widely and chuckling after reading the raw emotions that showed him the sentiment of the person behind the wall, a person he has never seen, never met and a person he still cherished. Wasn’t it magical? To create something out of nothing, with words alone?

He read further, gasping loudly, cheeks heating up as he read his neighbour’s elaboration on his pretty straightforward reaction to his words and his sounds. “Holy fuck,” he muttered and was about to read further, but suddenly there was a chuckle on the other side of the wall, low and attractive.

_He heard and probably thinks that your reaction is funny._

Shaking his head, but grinning, he read until the end, feeling overwhelmed after being called the best present. The whiplash between amusement and wonder was intense, but he had the whole night to create a reply, so he stood up from the bed, letting it screech and settled on the uncomfortable chair, pushing his phone to the side and taking out a new piece of paper.

_It's like being you every day for the length of a single letter._

'I’m glad that you liked the song and that it actually worked out and I’m happy that you called me the best present. To be honest, I keep thinking about words. You said you have trouble with them and you asked me whether what we have, the sharing and writing to each other, whether I would call it intimacy.’ He looked at the words and closed his eyes, taking in the slightly musty scent of the apartment, remembering that he forgot to buy a scented candle to get rid of it or at least replace it with something else. Those stray thoughts only came to stretch the time before he put the tip of the pen back on the paper and continued.

‘It is. I think it is intimacy and it was created by words only. So why do you think you were able to create intimacy with me, when you’re having a hard time with words? You don’t know what I look like, the way I smile or behave, how old I am or what my life is like, you only know my words and the muffled sound of my voice through your wall and still call me the best present. I only know your age and that it’s your birthday today, I now know how attractive your muffled voice sounds when you chuckle, and I know and try to understand the meaning of all those words that you shared with me. I know nothing and at the same time I know so much, does that make sense? We created intimacy like this and I can't help but want more of it.’

He had never met a person who tried to understand him and his fascination with the night, his curse that he made into a character trait, the meaning that he placed on his inability to sleep and the words that it produced. The words that only the night was able to pull out of his mind. Why did the person on the other side of the wall try to understand him if there was nothing to gain? Absolutely nothing.

‘Who knows, maybe… one doesn’t need understanding to care. To create intimacy.

P.S. You made me feel shy, but not because of your words. It was mostly because of my reaction to them and the immediate thought of how to make you feel that way again.

I also like your voice. It’s very attractive.

Thank you for making me feel alive in all kinds of ways. H.’

Licking his lips, he let the letter lay on his desk to look at it in case there was another thought to add during the night and opened his notebook on page number twenty. It’s been ages since he had written so much. Maybe it was the new environment, the lack of social contact, the loss that still pulled at his insides no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, or… or maybe it had been the change in perspective that the person on the other side of the wall was able to provide him with, showing him a world that was so different from his own, pulling him in and making him feel excited for more.

_

The folded piece of paper disappeared into the apartment next door, but instead of walking back to the familiar four walls of his own, he had to leave the grey building to go to the university for a meeting with the project team because they accepted his contribution and he couldn’t live off writing insanely honest letters to his neighbour.

_Wouldn’t it be great?_

His old suitcase donated a black shirt, so he looked more like somebody who had his life in order than like himself as he glanced at his reflection in the mirror before dropping off the letter he had written during the night and running down to not make the Uber driver wait for too long. He couldn’t really afford it at this point.

It was raining again. Thick, grey drops that left darker stains on his shirt, but disappeared as soon as he sat in the car. It felt strange to ride through the ambivalence of Paris on broad or too narrow streets going towards something that would become a part of his life, that he needed to take care of because it ensured an income. His ability to stay where he was.

_You want to stay. For now._

Before, he would’ve left for a different country, or did whatever, but it seemed like there were still ropes tying him down enough to stay. The rope that made him feel bitter and unable to move on and the rope that he held tightly in his hand, unwilling to let go because it felt too good between his fingers.

_What is better, holding, or being held?_

He forgot his notebook, but maybe he would remember that thought until he was back home and maybe there would be another letter. A response to his thoughts that he had carefully put together and slipped through the narrow space under the door, leaving them in the hold of a person he didn’t know.

He paid the driver and left the vehicle, running up the stairs with the file in his hand, holding it over his head to prevent the thick raindrops from ruining his hair that would immediately become wavy as soon as it was remotely close to any kind of moisture. Would he usually care about it? Not in the slightest, but he didn’t know who to expect.

‘Better safe than sorry,’ her voice sounded in his head followed by a loud chuckle and he frowned, but maybe it was because of the rain.

Maybe that feeling of putting on a different skin was what the person who lived in the apartment next door meant by pretending, trying to find out the expectations put on you in advance and attempting to assimilate to them. It was uncomfortable, but familiar at the same time as he walked into the meeting room and recognized the professor who he had talked to at the first meeting, when they explained the project and his contribution to it.

He had no knowledge about artificial intelligence and too little background to be able to follow everything that was said during the presentation, but what he understood was that the details would be discussed with the project leader, the person who he would work with and that he was supposed to meet right after.

_It's a bit tiring after not seeing a single person for days._

Maybe only sleeping for two hours hadn’t been the best idea either, but the excitement from the letter wasn’t going to let him get more anyway. If he had learned something during the years that he lived at night, then it was the wise advice to not think about sleep. At all.

He smiled, nodded and shook about a hundred hands before the Professor led him to an office that was located at the end of the hallway to meet the project leader. The door opened and since it was a modern building with big windows, the office in question seemed dark.

“This is the project leader, Dr. Chae. You will be working together as he is the one responsible for the implementation and training of the neural network. Please give Mr. Lee a short introduction so he can start preparing the relevant data.” The older man left the office, but he remained standing there and waited for the person who sat at the desk and clicked something to turn around and introduce themselves, but nothing happened for a few moments.

“Hi, Dr. Chae. Nice to meet you,” he tried again, but didn’t stretch out his hand because it looked stupid when nobody was looking back to see it.

_Maybe he doesn't want to talk right now?_

Suddenly, the man at the computer jerked briefly before standing up abruptly, almost with enough force to knock over his chair.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in, too busy with trying to solve a problem. Happens sometimes when the code doesn't listen to you," the project leader said with a grin he saw from the side. The tall man still clicked a few windows away before finally turning around to look at him with a smile and his hand stretched out. "I'm Hyungwon Chae and I'm in charge of the poetry project. Thank you so much for lending us your expertise and- oh."

His hand was faster, holding the slightly cool, bony fingers as his eyes widened because that face had been so present in his mind that he couldn’t have missed it anywhere.

_It's him._

He had trouble locating himself in time and space at first, like on that day when it happened, when nothing went the way he expected, and he simply stood there, observing the shards of his life fly past him, so far that he knew he could never find them.

To be honest, mostly, it was because the small face that was right in front of him had looked so incredibly malicious in his memory. Not like a human but more like some kind of a plague or even worse, a certain something that came to hurt him. It did, and he could remember every single detail, but right now, in the dark office, that same face with the smile that seemed a little forced, looked more confused and helpless than anything else.

He.

The person who had ruined his life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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CHAPTER 3

_“Why 25?”_

_“It’s so old, right? Because I think you will be with somebody by then!”_

_

Plain, fluffy carpet with no hidden letter on top of it. The lack of an answer had been disappointing in the morning, but maybe the man behind the wall had done his best to not wake him up.

_You'll have something to look forward to at the end of the day._

It was the main thought that kept him going. He wanted to be finished and return to his familiar space where there would be a beautiful letter lying on his fluffy carpet that he could read. A letter that showed him the response to all those thoughts he had and could tell him whether intimacy was something that could be shared through a wall, without touching.

A beeping distracted him from his thoughts and he cursed quietly because three hours of learning had been for nothing due to a mistake he hadn't seen. Usually he was pretty good at avoiding those, a benefit of his eye for details, but today his thoughts kept returning to the letter on his carpet instead of the task at hand.

_You will need to work with words, but the only words you understand are his._

His professor had already warned him that the guy producing the words for the poetry project was going to pop by, but he had opted out of the meeting to be more productive. Meetings were exhausting, and the results rarely justified the time invested, so he successfully found excuses and didn't bother participating. He knew about the project, so he didn't need an introduction and about the guy providing the words, he'd get to meet him early enough.

_You have enough to prepare before you get to meet him._

Luckily, he had already created a network in his deep learning library that spoke French, but that didn't mean that it could produce poetry. It was just a random generator for sentences basically and sure, poetry could be considered a bunch of sentences, but they needed somebody who knew more about arranging them. Obviously, a single person couldn't write enough poetry for a network to learn on, so he had spent the past weeks creating datasets of poetry and annotating it, but he just wasn't the right person for that. He couldn't note down what particular lines and metaphors hinted at because he didn't understand them in the first place.

_Why can't there be a properly annotated dataset already? One with more than just line breaks and stanza markers._

His office got brighter as somebody must have opened the door, but he didn't react yet. The brightness distracted him from the problem at hand, so he tried to angle his body away from it and finish the poem he had been annotating. He couldn't just stop in the middle of something, no matter who was there and the professor should have known that well enough instead of trying to address him several times.

There was some talking, but he hadn't turned yet, so he wasn't ready, not yet. His fingers worked furiously as he marked another line end and looked through a library of meanings to figure out which one was the correct one for the poem on his screen.

There was more talking, but from a different voice, lower and more hesitant and that was enough to snap him out of it.

_It's the poet and you're not reacting. Fuck._

He stood up and tried to save himself with words, talking through the different words in the speech he prepared as he still annotated one last line before getting rid of the open windows and trying to refocus his attention. His hand was already stretched out even though he didn't really like it and his lips kept moving through one sentence after the other until he finally glanced at the face of the man in front of him.

Time seemed to freeze as his senses were overloaded by so many things at once. There was the warm hand with delicate fingers holding his own, squeezing just enough for a handshake before applying a little more force than necessary. There was the static noise of his computer as it worked and a few honks from the traffic while his eyes travelled over the face in front of him and identified all the familiar features. Dark hair that was the colour of ravens outside his apartment building, full eyebrows that were just as dark, a sharp nose and eyes that were as round as buttons. He recognised the lips too, the curve he remembered trying to draw because it resembled a caterpillar he had kept as a pet. Everything was just as he remembered it, but better, because this time the man in front of him wasn't dressed in a black tuxedo but had come all the way to his office.

_He must have known. He must know about yesterday._

He couldn't read the expression on Hoseok's face, but he hadn't been able to do that before either. Instead he smiled wider and squeezed back, enjoying the warmth of the hand holding his because it was the hand of somebody special.

The hand of the man who was going to save him.

"What on earth…" the man in front of him muttered and slowly uncurled his fingers around his palm. "Are you really the one responsible for the project implementation? You?" the low voice asked quietly as those eyes remained wide and he could see Hoseok's quick heartbeat on the prominent jugular vein on his neck that he couldn't tear his gaze from.

"Yeah," he replied and couldn't help the grin that developed. It seemed so unreal that Hoseok had come all the way because of yesterday, especially because he had seemed so confused the last time they saw each other. He already missed the warmth of Hoseok's hand, but there was probably no reason for holding hands after the initial greeting, so he accepted it the way it was. "I'm in charge of neural network programming at the computer science chair. How come you are here?"

"How come I'm here?" When his eyes settled on the handsome face, he figured that the man had been staring at him. "Because I'm going to supply poetry for your project. Why else would I be here…? I can't believe it. What was your name again?"

_He… doesn't remember your name?_

There was a brief pain in his chest, as if all the air was pushed out at once and his lungs couldn’t resist the pressure. His smile faded for just a moment, but he had practised it often enough, so a replacement was back in place before Hoseok could wonder what had happened to his features.

_What if he's testing you, checking if you're still as weird as you were?_

It must have been some kind of joke, sarcasm that he couldn't understand. Hoseok toyed with him by pointing out that it was obvious why he was there. That, in addition to being the person in charge of writing poetry and helping him understand the meaning. Actually, the situation couldn't have been better and forgetting his name was just a small accident, a mistake that didn't have to mean anything.

After all, he had a piece of paper with Hoseok written on it whereas the man in front of him had nothing but his words.

_You're lucky, you're lucky because he's here and you can even work together. He's going to save you._

"Hyungwon," he replied and grinned because it was easier to seem playful than to correspond to any other human character trait. "My name is Hyungwon and damn, I can't wait to work together. Would you like me to explain what we're going to do or how much have you already heard in the meeting? I'm sorry for missing out, but I thought it's better to show you everything first hand. How-"

His automatic speech had turned back on and he paused it for a question that mattered to him. "How have you been?"

"How I've been?" the low voice asked quietly. "Fucking miserable, thanks to you. But sure, please tell me about the project, that's what I'm here for after all." Hoseok stepped back, putting both hands into his pockets and gesturing at his computer by tilting his chin briefly. "Feel free."

_Because of… you?_

His eyes widened a little and he felt thrown out of his prepared speech, unsure what to say next as he glanced at his empty desktop and then back at Hoseok's face. The man in front of him had just told him that he felt miserable, which was very bad and at the same time the reason for his misery was him? But how? What had he done to make the other man miserable?

_Is it because he had to wait?_

"I'm sorry about that," he murmured and sat down in his chair before remembering politeness and adding a stool, so Hoseok could sit down. "I'm still glad that you are here and will help me."

_With everything._

The thought excited him a little, so he smiled again and clicked aimlessly on his computer before finally remembering what he had wanted to explain to the poet once he arrived.

"Alright, so the plan is to create a neural network that writes poetry and the problem is that the network needs to understand what poetry is in the first place. You probably haven’t written a million things yet, so I'll need to train it on something else first, namely a gigantic set of poems that already exist. The problem is that computers don't know shit about poems and neither do I, which means there needs to be somebody who helps out and marks the database." He inhaled because his air ran out before immediately resuming his explanation. "Basically, we need you to create poetry and explain poetry. Questions?"

“So many, but I’m not sure how I feel about knowing the answers.” Hoseok spread his legs and opened the file on top of them, probably making notes of what he had just said. “I can do that. Just be specific and tell me what would be the first thing for me to do.” The other man had a low voice that managed to make him feel calm and excited at the same time and he was thankful because he couldn’t handle high tones and unstable intonations.

Still, the answer confused him. He wasn't quite sure what to do because it neither meant that there were no questions, nor that there was a question he needed to reply to. The sentence was ambivalent and had no appropriate response to it, at least none that he’d learned.

_Is it one of those sentences that humans say just like that without expecting a reply?_

Hoseok cut his thoughts by closing his folder and making him jerk because the sound was too rough and loud. “So… what would be the first thing you would want me to do? I have no idea about neural networks or literally anything else this project is about, I only know about words, so tell me what to do first, so I can go home and start doing it.”

_That's easier._

Now that Hoseok had said more, it was easier to classify the previous sentence as a 'side remark' that didn't have much meaning and therefore didn't require a reply. The important bit had been the second one, the one that asked about the next step in the project.

"Sure, basically I need you to take some of this database and mark important stylistic aspects and which meaning of a word is used. Let me show you an example." He opened the database he had been writing in and looked through the poems he already marked until he found the one he felt the most confident in at this point.

_Because you already have an explanation for that one._

Opening the short poem about bathing together, he hovered his mouse over the markers he placed. "You need to write where a line break is, where a stanza ends, so in this case after 'each other's shoulders'. There’re two stanzas and when there is rhyme, you mark the words that rhyme. The most important is the meaning though, so here for example we have an expression of intimacy and it's expressed very minimally. Through soaping and brushing over each other's shoulders. You need to mark those lines and choose the overarching topic. Make a new one if it's not there yet. For each word, it shows you a list of meanings and you choose which one is used in this case. Does that make sense?"

He felt proud because he really sounded like a human that knew what he was talking about even though the poem had been a mystery to him and reminded him of his neighbour's gasps behind the wall.

_The one moment of intimacy you know. Once you return home you will know if what you share with him is intimacy._

“Mhm,” the low voice hummed. “I really like that one. Let me write one and you show me how you would mark it, so I know. The database is on the laptop that I received, but I would like to see it once to make sure that I’m doing it right."

_Shit._

Adrenaline rushed through his veins, but he kept his professional smile and reached for Hoseok's laptop to set it up and open the database of poems. There were over a million in the original one, but he had purposefully reduced it to not make it seem overwhelming. In addition, it merged sets that already had all the classifications.

_You must figure this out or he won't understand what to do._

He added an empty item into the set and turned the laptop towards Hoseok, so he could write. His heart was so loud, but luckily, he knew that nobody was able to see that. Humans weren't that attentive and rarely saw whatever was going on inside his head.

"Sure, that sounds like a great idea. Just write it in here and then I'll show you how to classify it."

Hoseok smirked briefly and lifted his small, pale hands, typing out letters as he licked his lips and stared at the outcome, before pushing the laptop towards him and he could read the words.

‘Was that what you lived for?

To crouch in the grey, narrow corner

of normality.’

_You can do this._

He swallowed but kept his smile before immediately getting to work. It was easy at first because he marked all the line breaks and spaces, adding that there was only one stanza in this poem and no rhyme. He made sure to comment on everything as he did it before it was time to classify the meaning and he paused at first.

"If you're unsure about the category of the poem all together, it's easiest to do the separate bits first. So, for example I would mark 'crouch' and indicate that it relates to normality. So, normality is presented as a place you can be located at, which is important for the network to know. I also mark all the adjectives that point out that this 'corner' of normality isn't a nice place to be. Lastly, I point out the question which helps to sort this into 'existential criticism' and 'questioning self/ questioning choices'." Again, his air ran out and he had to pause, nervous because he had no idea if what he understood was right. The poem was basically describing him, crouching in a tiny corner that was called normality and unable to quite expand his arms and legs because they weren't the right size, the human size.

"If… you think there are other topics, then you can mark them here," he murmured and showed Hoseok the space before classifying each word according to the meaning used in the poem.

The man next to him crossed his arms and observed him intently without showing any reaction to what he was doing which was unsettling to say the least. The motion distracted him as it released some of the fragrance that resembled sweet cherries and his thoughts stuttered because it was so intense.

“That one was a bit easy wasn’t it? Let me try again.” Pulling the laptop towards himself, Hoseok leaned forward and froze for a few long moments, making him nervous and scared before typing something and pushing the laptop towards him again.

‘blurred traces everywhere

no feelings and no reasons.

the small face grinning brightly at the dark in me,

watching emptiness.’

He stared at the words, at each single one and just like so many times before, he couldn’t combine them into a whole. He couldn't understand more than the words themselves were telling him. What were the feelings about? Why were there no reasons? Whose small face was grinning at something black within a person? What blackness could it be? Was it something bad? Was the person empty or was the blackness what brought about the emptiness?

_You don't know what this means._

He didn't comment and merely began as he had before, marking the line breaks and words that related to each other. But as soon as the formal definitions were done, he paused without saying a word, eyes unable to focus on the whole and remaining on the single words without meaning.

Taking a deep breath, he finally turned towards Hoseok and smiled.

"You're the poetry expert, aren't you?"

“Is it hard for you to understand, or is it hard to accept the meaning?” Hoseok asked, crossing his arms and surrounding him with the scent of sweet cherries. “I keep thinking about whether it’s the first or the second.”

Hyungwon stared back as his thoughts raced to come up with a correct reply. Admitting to not being able to understand could have meant that Hoseok was going to see that he hadn't improved a single bit since they first met. But the second option didn't make sense to him. Why would meaning need to be accepted? Wasn't it either there or not?

"How can it be hard to accept the meaning of something?" he decided to ask and brushed a strand of hair away from his eyes to see all of Hoseok's face. "A meaning doesn't change only because somebody claims it to be true or not. It remains what it is, so being unable to accept it seems stupid to me."

“Does it? You’re wrong and I will tell you why. Because humans create a meaning for themselves and the meaning something has for me doesn’t necessarily apply to you and vice versa. I just want to go home whereas you don’t seem to care much about my company. If I told you that you made me miserable, would you simply accept the meaning, or would you think about whether you feel the same? Would you try to reassign a different meaning to my words? Trying to make them sound different? Have a different outcome? One that would make you feel better but doesn’t correspond with the original meaning at all? Because you definitely sound like it.” Hoseok stood up and pulled the laptop out of his hands before closing the lid and putting it into a black case along with the file.

“I think I understand the task, you can write me an email if you have any additions,” Hoseok commented without showing a single facial expression on his handsome face and walked out of the office, leaving him alone with the deafening sound of the door and the intense scent of sweet cherries.

And as was so often, Hyungwon found himself sitting in his dark office all by himself and wondering how he had managed to ruin it all.

_You always find a way, don't you?_

His attention was a mess with his eyes jumping from his beeping computer to the slits in the blinds, hurting his vision. His hands were shaking, but he rested them on the keyboard to feel like nothing had changed, as if he was still simply working on his project and as soon as he lifted his head there was still going to be the solution to his problems, the reason he hadn't given up all this time.

_Because there is somebody, that one person._

But what if time was supposed to have changed him? Even though he had finally met the person that was meant to save him after turning twenty-five, nothing had changed about him. He was still strange and unable to understand, no matter how badly he tried or pretended that he was human. It didn't matter how often he tried to play along, to be sarcastic and funny while everybody else had a laugh.

_You're still the same, only with more pretence and less strength._

Hoseok had said that he was feeling miserable because of him, but he hadn't mentioned the reason or elaborated on it. It was like a fact that hung in the air, but that couldn't be pulled apart into bits, bits that could have helped him change it. Hoseok had merely stated that he was the reason for his misery without leaving any options for him to be the reason for something else, something positive. Like the other man was for him.

_How are you supposed to improve if you just don't understand?_

He held his breath to fight the terrible feeling, but it didn't get any better. There was nothing to get rid of it, to let it bleed out into the water the way he imagined his neighbour doing. There was no fluffy carpet to forget himself on, no letter that could explain his own feelings to him and no older person that was able to help him solve it, because now he was the older person and had to do it on his own. Somehow others learned, but why was he still like this?

Why was he still sitting in his office with hurting ears and a burning chest and unable to be human no matter how much he tried?

_You need to leave. You cannot stay like this._

He could read the signs, his own rough breathing as his resolve crumbled and his vision blurred over. Nobody could see him like this, unable to pretend and too much like himself.

His hands worked automatically as he packed up his bag and turned off his computer. He didn't need to think for that, to remember anything because this was the state that he left his office in every day, barely aware but still able to move in space.

The streets were a grey mess and so was his apartment building when he finally reached it and unlocked his door at the second attempt. Right when he stepped onto his soft carpet there was a crunching noise, the sound of paper under a shoe sole.

_A letter. You received a letter._

Excitement overshadowed his exhaustion and he let himself fall on the floor as soon as the door closed and reached for the piece of paper. There was a black mark from his shoe on it and he didn't manage to wipe it away. A kiss was his last solution, like an apology, as he unwrapped it and began to read.

_Intimacy, he says that it's intimacy._

His fingers trembled with excitement as his eyes kept rushing from one line to the next. It felt surreal that the man behind the wall considered what they shared intimacy, something he had been sure he was never going to experience. The letter was right, because they didn't know anything about each other. He didn't know what the other man looked like, how old he was, what he did for a living or how his face moved, but still they were able to communicate.

_Because like this, he's just as helpless as you are._

His eyes widened, and he realised that he needed to share his realization, to explain how their intimacy came to be if he struggled with words and writing. Hurrying to his desk, he grabbed the first pen he could find, a green one, and began to write on a clean sheet of paper.

'You asked about how we were able to create intimacy, but I think my struggles already give you the explanation. I don't know how to use words well and to understand what another person means when they use them, but while writing both of us use the same information. Maybe you still have more information about meaning, but you cannot use my facial expressions or the tone of my voice to know more. These things are difficult to understand for me, so when I have your written word and the explanations to it, it's easier somehow.'

Chewing on his lips, he decided to share even more, to build the intimacy that they had created like a sandcastle, grain by grain. He imagined one truth to be such a grain, small but impactful.

'I was very sad today, because I didn't understand somebody. It happens to me a lot and then the other person is upset and I'm not sure what to do to change it. Often people don't say when they are upset or just expect me to know from their face, but I'm not able to. Your letter made me happy again today, as if you really are my birthday present. Even though I should be like you and say that you don't have to write to me, I cannot help but write 'please do'.'

The letter felt heavy, so glanced at the P.S to be able to end it with something lighter. Something that didn't make the man behind the wall feel pressured.

'P.S. I would love for you to make me feel that way again. No need to be shy. H,' he added and realised that he hadn't even taken off his shoes or washed his hands when he slipped his letter under his neighbour's door.

While the man behind his wall preferred the night over the day, he seemed to have begun to quietly listen to the wall to know when time would finally unfreeze, and he could feel alive again.

***

Would he have known what to do with himself if there was no night, or indeed, no words, to express his thoughts and innermost feelings? Probably not, as the interactions with humans were a general disappointment and a bland reminder that they didn’t care about others, their own actions or the aftermath. They simply existed in their selfish ignorance, moving on independent of what happened or who they hurt in the process.

_Every single thought that you waste on that person will become a present that you don’t want to give._

He closed his eyes and hummed, stroking over the letter that lay on the desk to his right as he worked himself through classifications of poems, assigning categories to words and cutting the works like a ripe mango, letting them bleed out into meanings that weren’t whole, or interesting, or existing all by themselves. It hurt a little to disassemble an entity, a thought or multiple thoughts that had been intertwined so tightly into the sentences and words, but he was supposed to do it, he did it for a reason. To be able to prolong his stay at this place until there was a different place he felt he could move onto...

Quietly, his phone buzzed, and he glanced in its direction, finding another sentence that he wished he didn’t have to read. Why bother, if the thought behind it could’ve made it clearer and wouldn’t hurt more than the empty words already did?

‘I hope you found a nice place to stay.’

He chuckled bitterly and used his thumb and index finger to snap the device further away from his sight, observing it hit one of his notebooks. Why did he have a phone in the first place? Maybe it was time to get rid of it for good if the only emotion it brought was bitterness.

There were pictures hidden in a secret folder and sometimes, when the night was too dark, and his thoughts weren’t flowing down the drain when he showered, he would look at a few of them, giving himself a number, he could look at.

Five.

The day they went to the Louvre at night because it was pretty, her lips pressing against his cheek when he tried to take a picture. A close-up of his hand touching her shoulder because he liked the few moles that were arranged like a petal, a perspective of the full moon taken from their bedroom window because no matter what, the moon had always been the best illumination and the last one. The bed and her naked body as she tried to hide her face in the blanket, a hint of her smile and her blushed cheek.

Emptiness.

He gave himself a few seconds, counting from twenty down to zero with his eyes closed and inhaling the fragrance of the candle that he lit up which covered the apartment in the faint scent of sweet cherry. As the numbers reduced, his heartbeat slowed down, picking up again when he took the letter and unfolded the paper under the warm light of his table lamp. The words were green this time and it took a few moments for his vision to accommodate and make out words that flowed so naturally even though the person on the other side of the wall seemed to struggle with them.

‘You weren’t barefoot when you brought the letter today, am I right?’ he started to write his answer while still reading, to capture every thought on the paper that soaked up the ink immediately after he let one of his fountain pens touch the surface. To not let anything change it. To be honest whatever it meant. ‘You keep saying that you struggle and don’t understand, but I feel understood by you and that’s why I feel close. You seem to care enough to put in effort independent of the actual outcome, and even though there is nothing for you to gain, you are still here and I am. Ready to do the same.

I met somebody I really didn’t want to see today, but I tried to suffer through it because I want to stay here, in this apartment for a bit longer. Maybe I’m somebody who gets hurt easily, I’m not sure, but the whole day today felt like a parallel reality that I don’t want to be part of. I just want to live at night, reading your letters, writing my thoughts as a reply and maybe… maybe also make you feel more intimacy if I’m able to.

To be honest, I don’t really feel shy, not anymore. What’s the worst thing that could happen? You listening to my moans when I touch myself and being unable to fall asleep? You could do the same, I heard sleep comes easier that way.

P.S. What is intimacy like for you? I would love to know, because then, I could write you a little something that would make you feel just like you want to feel. H.’

His cheeks were burning, and he licked over his lips that felt dry, but maybe he should’ve drunk more instead of sitting for hours in front of a laptop, looking at pictures that only made him feel emptier and thinking about a person that he wished he’d never met.

His feet carried him to the door, along the wall and finally to the entrance of the apartment where he had carried his thoughts for a few days now and that felt like an escape. Like a safe place for anything that crossed his mind. He smiled and slipped the paper that he folded four times under the narrow space and instead of simply letting go of it, he felt a hint of firm warmth against his fingers as the paper was pulled out of his hand. His eyes widened, and he gasped before stepping back and staring at the line of faint light under the door.

_He just took it. He isn’t sleeping._

Was he being reckless and ignorant to the needs of his neighbour, keeping him awake and forced to deal with his nightly activity? He walked back slowly, waiting until the door shut and stared at the French bed pushed against the wall. He had planned on getting rid of some tension and unnecessary thoughts, but now that he knew that his neighbour wasn’t sleeping it was a bit…

_A bit exciting._

There wasn’t anything that he thought about when he simply took off his shirt, remaining in underwear and laying on his bed that screeched so loudly that he knew the person on the other side of the wall could hear it well. This time he wanted to listen too. To listen, wondering if he was able to recognize anything, to get an impression of what happened behind that wall when the person living there wasn’t asleep like now, reading his letter.

_Now you wish you would be able to hear the way he does._

At first there was no sound, as if to show him that hearing the silence wasn't something he was capable of. But then he heard a shuffling that could have been a blanket being rearranged on top of sheets. There was no screeching like his own bed produced, but he could identify motions if he tried hard, like a body that shifted on top of the bed to get closer to the wall.

Next there was rustling, like something was directly touching the wall, brushing over it.

_Is he listening to you?_

His heart was beating faster, and he shifted closer to the wall, lifting one hand and stroking over the surface once.

All sounds seemed to stop all at once, as if the person on the other side was holding their breath before slowly exhaling, loud enough for him to hear. A little further from the spot he identified, the rustling resumed, just like the sound that his fingers had created against the wall.

_He is. He is listening to you._

He swallowed, and his body tingled in response to the thought that there was a person, a special person on the other side of the wall, listening to what he was doing. Interested in what he was doing. Thinking about touching himself to relieve some tension and touching himself because somebody was listening and liked the way he sounded were two very different things and his body was of the same opinion, immediately reacting in a very straightforward way.

He inhaled and kept the air inside his lungs, one hand stroking over his own chest and traveling lower as he breathed out, sensitive skin reacting to his own touch and making his exhale sound breathy.

He was focused on the sensation and his awareness of being listened to when there was another shift and a soft gasp. He might have missed it had he not been listening but lying right next to the wall made the sound seem present, as if it was right next to him.

_Is he reacting to you or… to himself?_

He was overwhelmed at the intensity of his reaction, the goose bumps that covered his body as he pulled on the band of his underwear and let it jump back against his skin, thighs spreading slightly when he used his index finger to trace the shape of his erection under the thin fabric, hissing quietly and eyes rolling back.

Another gasp sounded, this time a little louder and when he paused to hear it again, it resembled an attempt to keep quiet, lips sucked into a warm mouth.

He wasn’t sure what exactly he was trying to achieve, but he hummed lowly, repeating the soft stroking motion with a bit more pressure and took the time to slip both hands under his underwear, slowly pulling it down his legs and listening as the fabric rubbed against his skin.

It was dead quiet on the other side of the wall until he heard a breathy exhale and motion in the sheets. The rustling against the wall that had been higher up before, slowly slipped down to his head height and remained there, accompanied by a low and raw hum.

He had a hard time containing his reaction and imagination that didn’t entail any specific images, but just the low voice and that kind of sound were enough to let his fingers curl around his length and give it some friction. First, he had tried to not be too loud about the pleasure he felt, but what was the point if the other person was there to listen to its expression, right? Inhaling sharply, he squeezed his tip and stroked himself, moaning softly and spreading his thighs, one knee rubbing against the wall.

A low moan joined his own, right before it was cut off with a rough inhale, as if the man on the other side was still trying to contain his own sound while listening to his. Fingers seemed to dance over the wall, rustling close to where his knee was and the whole experience felt surreal despite no actual hands on his body apart from his own. Another moan sounded through the wall, this time louder and he recognised the sound of something wet, like skin sliding over skin.

_He's touching himself._

His reaction was instant, lips parting to let out a low, breathy sound as he moved his hand a bit faster, head shifting towards the wall and hair rubbing against it when he curled his spine, holding his breath and his eyes rolling back. He was so incredibly aroused but at the same time, he didn't want it to end. He wanted to continue listening to those low moans, the motions and to feel his skin tingle in response.

It felt mutual because the sound behind the wall changed, adjusting to his own and the speed of his hand. The way the other man was touching himself got faster and the fingers that had danced over the wall before seemed to be almost scratching over it, sounding rougher than before. The low moans got louder, less contained and maybe even less aware as they sometimes appeared more present than his own, spreading goose bumps over his whole body.

His body was burning, longing for more, for release, but his awareness jumped between his own need and the existence on the other side of the wall, the low moans that sounded so good that he wished to feel them against his neck, the shell of his ear, to feel those nails on his skin those motions…

He lifted his right hand and scratched along the wall, stroking himself faster and letting sounds rain from his lips because he simply felt like it. His mind provided him with so many additional sensations that his whole body tensed, and he came with an exhale that turned into a low groan.

His heartbeat was loud in his ears as he panted from the intensity of his high while still listening to the sounds behind the wall. He was even more aware of them now, of how low and rough the other man's voice was, how breathless he seemed and how he seemed to mutter words in between his moans that he couldn't decipher. Nails scratched over the wall as it suddenly got quiet for several seconds, before he heard a loud moan that stretched for several seconds and was followed by loud breaths.

'Holy shit,' he heard, but couldn't be sure if those were really the words as a strange sound entered his ears, reminding him of somebody smacking their lips after a sip of wine.

He just hummed and was sure that the person behind the wall could hear those sounds, could hear everything because his existence was noisy. Because the human on the other side of the wall told him that those sounds made him feel more alive, just like he felt alive right now.

"Please continue writing to me," he whispered, before closing his eyes and listening to the rough breaths that calmed down with every passing second, erasing what was and returning the darkness of the night and eternal silence.

***

His eyes opened and as every day, the few rays of light that fought their way past his blinds welcomed him. It was a good day, one of the ones that he didn't have to go to work and that wasn't filled with pretence and his attempts to belong.

It was a good day, but still he found himself missing the night, the moments that he was able to share with the man on the other side of his bedroom wall. There was something magical about those hours and he struggled to understand why he hadn't realised it before.

The night was the only time that he didn't need to be somebody else, to pretend and to act as a human being. At night he could be himself, honest, direct and expressive the way the man he shared intimacy with was.

His orgasm had taken some of the pressure off his head and he felt lighter, even though his hours of sleep had been gradually reducing over the past week. His routine was easy to follow through and just like every time that there was a letter waiting for him, he felt excited about replying.

Maybe it was what humans called an addiction at this point, a desire for something that takes precedence over everything else. Sleep didn't seem as important anymore because reading those letters made him feel good. It made him feel understood, maybe even a little bit like a human.

Still naked because he didn't have to go anywhere, he sat down at his desk and drew a heart in each corner of the paper to show how much he enjoyed writing, how much it meant to him to have somebody who listened and tried to explain.

_He asked you to keep writing to him. As if you could ever stop._

He smiled, thinking back to the pleasant voice behind the wall, the low hum that acknowledged him and how overwhelmed he felt by sharing such a special moment. He had always been hesitant about getting involved with another person just like that, but with his companion behind the wall it seemed so easy.

_As if there's nothing wrong with you._

Even though he saw the mark on the calendar, the mark telling him that it was the second day after his twenty-fifth birthday, he didn't feel too sad. If there was a human who wrote to him and wanted to understand him, then there was a way to explain and apologise to another person, wasn't there?

_Especially a person that knows about you._

The day before still felt wrong, like a scene in a movie that didn't belong, and he hoped that it was going to change. Maybe he just needed to find the right words, learn how to explain his feelings and understand the feelings of somebody else.

Repeatedly lifting his leg up on his toes and back down again, he began to write.

'You're right, I wasn't barefoot,' he began and smiled to himself because the reason had been his excitement. 'I answered you right after work and forgot to take off my shoes. I rarely wear clothes or shoes because I feel more like myself without them.'

Usually humans considered his dislike for clothes strange, but maybe his neighbour would be able to understand with a little more explanation.

'My skin is very sensitive, so any kind of fabric tends to feel like too much. That's why I don't wear wool or similar fabrics and simply try to not wear any in the first place. When I accepted your letter last night, I was also not wearing anything. Sometimes I also give you your letter that way, because the staircase is always empty and it's too much strain to get dressed. I hope you don't mind.'

He listened carefully, but there was no sound on the other side of the wall, probably because his neighbour slept at this time. On those days that he didn't have to go to work, he could tell how early he woke up despite going to bed late and how different their schedules were. Only at night their lives seemed to have collided somehow.

'You say that you feel understood by me and you are the first person to tell me that. What exactly makes you feel that way? I'm only repeating the things you do, because I can't really imagine well. Only your words seem to make the images in my head real.

You said that you had to meet somebody you really didn't want to see. I'm sorry that you felt that way. I know what that's like because most of the time there isn't anybody I want to see at all. There were only two people I didn't mind seeing and now that I've met you, you are the third. I cannot stop thinking of you as a present, a blessing that was given to me after twenty-five years of not fitting in.'

_Aren't you saying too much? What if he guesses that you aren't human? Who else would struggle to fit in for so many years._

'Maybe it will help you to talk to that person, after all you are so good with words. I'm sure you could explain to them why they are hurting you and you don't wish to see them. I think if I were the one you didn't want to see, then I'd wish to know why, so I could try to change it.

Before, the night was the time of recovery for me, but you have filled it with excitement and the feeling that there are more ways to feel like myself than exhaustion and silence. Thank you for that.'

He stared at the almost full page of writing and couldn't quite believe that his hand had produced it. He never knew what to say but when it came to the man next door there were so many thoughts on his mind, so many things he wanted to ask and hopefully understand.

'If you made a mistake and wanted to apologise for making somebody unhappy, how would you do that? I really want to make something better, but I'm not sure how.

Also, if you think that I won't write about last night, then you don't know me well enough. You said you aren't shy, neither am I. I'm glad when I can just say things the way they are without pretending that I'm not feeling anything. I really enjoyed listening to you last night and my hand felt different with your voice in my ear. You asked what intimacy is like for me, but I'm not sure I can answer because what we share is the first time I've experienced it.

Unless you're interested in what I'm into sexually. That's a relatively long list. I like it rougher, with lots of touching and lots of whispering, bunch of teasing cause it feels much better in the end. I also prefer to be on the receiving end and think cum tastes decent, at least my own.

P.S. I hope you dreamt something nice because you hummed in your sleep, H.'

Smiling at his creation, he drew a few more hearts and what hopefully looked like a turtle before folding it a few times and excitedly stuffing it under the other man's door.

Then he listened on his bed, unsure if the other man was still asleep.

Apparently, he wasn't, because the bed screeched, and he heard steps before it screeched again, and he could make out the rustling of the sheets as the other man shifted before he unfolded the letter.

It was interesting to listen to the sounds behind the wall that mostly consisted of inhales, exhales, something that resembled 'holy fucking shit', one long and incredibly attractive hiss and suddenly a low laugh, lasting for a few seconds accompanied by the screeching of the bed and sounding full of joy.

_You must have made him happy._

He wished that he could ask immediately what exactly had made the other man so happy, but unfortunately letters weren't that immediate, and he didn't want to ruin the moment by speaking. Instead, he simply kept listening to the scratching of the pen on paper, the pause and slow intakes of breath as the other man thought about what to write. He enjoyed the sound of it and somehow didn't even feel bad about all those minutes he wasn't working on his poetry project.

His alarm clock told him that twenty minutes had passed when he heard steps on their way to the door. He hurried and knelt to accept the letter with his hands again, impatient but also a little excited because he enjoyed the way those fingers felt against his own. It was only a brief second that they touched, but it was enough to look forward to.

_Because you are the one initiating._

Running back to his bed, he threw himself on the mattress, wincing at first at the sound, before he got to read the beautifully written lines.

'Receiving such a long letter from you feels like it's my birthday today and I, after twenty-five years, finally got something that I actually wished for. At least that was the first thought after seeing it. You must've heard my reaction, did you?'

_Yes, you did._

He smiled and felt excited to learn something new, finding out that the man across the wall was even the same age as him.

'I will answer one thing at a time to make it easier for myself and try not to get distracted by the last part. You give me whiplash, Monsieur.

First, I do understand your dislike for clothes. For me it doesn't have much to do with fabric, but mostly with expectations. I run around in grey shirts and tiny shorts most of the time because it's comfortable to work out, so if you hear heavy breathing… consider that it could be me doing a hundred push-ups.'

He giggled because of the whiplash remark and tried to imagine a man with a grey shirt and tiny shorts doing push-ups, but he wasn't very good at imagining unless his neighbour was giving him exact descriptions to imagine. Still, he thought the idea of hearing the other man work out was kind of hot and he was looking forward to it. Maybe the sound was even regular and therefore calming.

_Or the opposite of calming._

'I feel understood because you are trying to accept and think about my perspective. You ask questions and seem genuinely interested. Even if you only do it to keep the conversation going, don't worry. I'm still thankful because my emotions are still positive, and I feel understood. You're a blessing to me. A place I feel safe. You're the warm home for my most intimate thoughts, those you know and those you don’t, and I couldn't thank you enough for welcoming them and giving them a place, they can remain in all their honesty. (I wrote about the thoughts you don't know, that's because I sometimes think about you when I have something on my mind and imagine writing to you about it. It makes me feel less lonely.)

As for the person that I met. I don't know if I should explain or just leave it be. Don't you feel tired explaining things to people? That's how I feel too, especially because I'm still… I'm still not over what happened and thinking about it makes me feel miserable. It's like digging into a deep wound for someone I don't even know. I'm not sure I want to do it. You said you would want to know what you did if it were you who hurt me, but to you - I would've explained it all until my tongue bled.

It seems like we are in similar situations in different ways. You said you found me after twenty-five years of not fitting in and I am on square one after twenty-five years of trying something I was never sure I wanted and being abandoned by every person I'd been trying so hard to explain myself to. Even though in some ways I blame that person I don't want to see, I somehow… acknowledge their contribution to my situation. If being abandoned is so easy, it's better to get it over with sooner rather than later when it hurts more, right?'

_You feel similar, don't you?_

He hummed because it sounded a lot like him too. He knew what it felt like to try to explain himself, to point out that there was something missing in him that wasn't visible, but somehow people rarely understood and even if they did, explaining repeatedly could be so exhausting. If the person wasn't somebody who mattered then it was understandable to not want to see them, but if the hurt was bad, wasn't it better to talk and make it better?

'I'm sorry that it got a bit dark suddenly, I promised myself to use the words I want and write what I think without a filter, because it seems like the most honest thing to do and that's the least I can do for you. You asked how you should apologise… First thing you need to know is what you did wrong in the eyes of the other person. There is no use in saying sorry without knowing what it is about. From personal experience, there's nothing worse than an apology that is only meant to make the person apologizing feel better.

And now to the part that made my skin tingle and that made me laugh too because damn, you're hilarious. I was longing to know more about the way you feel, so I could use my words to describe, to make you feel intimacy and arousal all at once. Do you know how that feels? Like I described the poem to you. I wanted to unwrap more meaning for you, let you feel it, just like you made me feel yesterday, imagining I could feel those sounds you made against my skin.

Your list sounds intriguing. For me, it depends on the person I'm with. I'm usually on the giving end and I try to find out what my partner likes and give them the maximum of what I'm able to. Damn, I really love your voice…

  1. S. Your hearts are cute, and you are cute. H.'



He chuckled again and wondered whether he could do the other man justice by attempting to answer what intimacy felt like to him. He wasn't very good at describing his feelings, but he could probably try.

_Don't you have to work?_

He did, but maybe work could wait just a little? Just enough for him to be able to write another letter without letting the man behind the wall wait too long.

Almost like a real conversation.

Instead of sitting down at his desk as before, he took the paper and a blue pen along to the bed, lying down on his stomach and using a neural network book to keep his handwriting from being unreadable.

'Dear friend from next door, can I call you a friend? I learned that one shares deep thoughts and feelings with friends, so maybe that's what we are?

One rarely hears how another person reacts to one's thoughts and truths, so we have something rather special, don't we? I'm doing my best to keep it safe, like I do with the small flowers that my grandma keeps wanting to get rid of because they weren't planted in the pots in the first place. We're also like that I think, creating something where it wasn't quite meant to be. I hope it makes sense, I'm not very good at poetry talk.

I understand that you don't want to explain yourself to that person, to somebody who must have hurt you. But maybe they don't know, at least I feel that way most of the time. Explaining can be tiring, but maybe if it hurts a lot, then talking about it might make you feel better.

If you were hurt, would you be upset about the person that hurt you asking what they did? You said an apology is pointless without knowing, but to know I'll have to ask, and I'm scared of upsetting them even more. They’re one of the three important people, so it's a little terrifying.

Over the past twenty-five years I've also been trying, and I hoped that things would work out in the end, but as you can tell they didn't really. Still, there is always a last resort, isn't there? A glimmer of hope like those glow in the dark pearls one could collect as a child. Something like that.

Now to the part that made your skin tingle. That's a very nice way to describe it. Do you mean the heat travelling to the pit of your stomach? I really like that feeling, it gives me a sense of urgency and the need to act on it. You asked how intimacy feels to me, so I'll do my best to explain it. (And I apologise in advance.)

When you described the feeling to me, I felt really warm all over. Usually the sounds around me are uncomfortably loud and the smallest of motions and colours distract me, but while reading and hearing you at the same time it seemed like you were right there. Touches tend to be too sudden and raw for me as well, but when I used my own hand to follow your lead it really seemed like it was you, but in the way that I can bear it. It's still overwhelming to think about it because arousal usually makes me lose awareness, so I can't quite tell you what's happening in my head, but it makes me feel a lot and I like it very much.

Hope that helped and I'd love to see what that maximum you can give is. And those tiny shorts.

P.S. Are we supposed to be flirting now after the jerk-off session? If yes, how? I only know how to ask what you're wearing in messages and I know already. A grey shirt and tiny shorts.'

He added a bunch of hearts for good measure and looked for a red pen to colour them in as an extra. The letter looked sweet, so he kissed it once and folded it into a mediocre plane. On the sides of the plane he wrote 'for my secret companion behind the wall' before hurrying outside to stuff it under the door so he could finally get to work.

Once he knelt on the dirty ground and stuck his fingers under the door slit, the letter was taken from his hands, carefully pulled out of his grip without trying to grab his fingers.

His heart was hammering in his chest and he stayed in place even though he wasn't wearing anything and kneeling in the middle of the staircase. His fingers felt funny, tingling even and he pulled his hand back and pressed it to his chest as he finally hurried back to his apartment.

And even throughout the next hours of analysing poems and writing code, he just couldn't stop feeling the brief sensation of warmth against his fingers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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CHAPTER 4

_"And you won't break it?"_

_"No way. It's a promise."_

___

Were friendships really like that? Writing each other letters full of honesty, sharing what you couldn’t tell anybody else, waiting for those words like a blessing and touching yourself to the sound of breathy moans from behind the wall? If that was it, he had never experienced a friendship before.

His neighbour had mentioned his grandma for the first time and the flowers he had wanted to save. Smiling to himself, he remembered meeting her in front of the other man’s door when he left a package he had accepted and fortuitously finding out it was his birthday. ‘I was wondering who accepted the present. It’s for my grandson. He turned twenty-five today,’ she had said proudly and smiled. Hoseok had smiled back because her expression was so full of warmth, the kind of enveloping, safe warmth one could only feel for a person one genuinely loved. He was happy that his neighbour on the other side of the wall had somebody who loved him that way.

Could he feel it?

His pen was ready to write down all the thoughts he had after reading the letter, so he started with something fun.

‘You are wrong about my clothes, Monsieur, as I’m just wearing black underwear because I didn’t have the time to get dressed yet. I will work out in a bit and then try to go to work to clear up a few things I’m having difficulties with. I look forward to reading your reply when I’m back because that’s the highlight of my daily existence and I feel like I will really need it today. What are your plans?

Honestly, you don’t need to flirt with me. You don’t need to do anything in particular. I’m just thankful that you are here. However, I must disagree with you as I don’t want to call it a jerk-off session, because I didn’t just jerk off. I listened to your voice and to your reaction, imagining it, letting it become part of me and fuelling my motions and the way I felt about them. I stroked over my body, imagining the feeling of your gasps hitting the skin of my neck, rough and making me want more. I could picture your warm fingers creating goose bumps on my stomach and thighs. When the air left my lungs, sucking in more, I knew that the pleasure I experienced was not the outcome of the touches of my hand, but of the way you sounded and felt pleasure next to me. So much for poetry talk, but you could’ve of course just jerked off. That’s okay. You hear and see many more things than I am able too, and I think too many things. So many that I need to wrap them in words, slowly, slowly until they’re safe.

You said you would like to see the maximum that I’m able to give. I’m not sure I understood correctly because no matter how much I think about it, I end up feeling confused. And hot. But how can it be, that you like it ‘rougher’, but feel overwhelmed by touch? Do you need to get used to touch? Do you touch your partner first, without wanting to be touched in return? I’m sorry for being so curious, I just really want to know.

About your second person. Tell them the truth. That you don’t know what you did and that you want to know and fix it. It should be enough. Honesty and understanding should always be enough.

Is your grandmother one of those people? I met her on your birthday, that’s how I know. She made me happy because she smiled when she mentioned you and it looked like a sea of warm honey.

You said that things didn’t work out. What was it that you were wishing for?

P.S. I love the feeling of your warm hands and paper. H.’

He didn’t write anything about that person, because somehow it seemed as if his neighbour on the other side of the wall was right. As if he prevented himself from clearing anything up to be able to keep his narrative.

_‘Why keep holding onto pain_

_If it might just be_

_a mistake._

_To protect, I say._

_Even a mistake,_

_is calm and familiar.’_

He smiled with a certain bitterness that only moments of self-awareness could taste like and walked to his suitcase that still lay on the floor, grey and used, manifesting that his situation was temporary. Who unpacked a suitcase if they knew they were leaving again? If he didn’t unpack, then he could think that there was still a place for him to leave to.

_

It was a bit unfortunate that instead of simply coming over in an uncomplicated way, the professor had requested that person, the project leader to come in despite working from home today. He felt a bit bad for requesting help and making the other man’s supervisor pull him out of his routine, but the damage was already done and he walked down the hallway to the last door, knocked briefly and after making sure that it was locked, sat on the carpet next to it, deciding to write down the poem he had thought about after finishing the letter to the special person behind the wall.

‘Our moans, low,

intertwined over air and stone.

And we are one,

when the only thing I know,

is the warmth of your hand and

paper,'

he typed into the laptop. After some time passed, he perceived quick steps that didn’t sound regular as he finally turned towards the open end of the hallway, observing a tall figure quickly approaching, looking more confused than anything else.

It was strange to see it again. The soft, small face. It seemed to disintegrate in his memory, only leaving fragments that didn’t fit with anything anymore.

Now, he took enough time to look at it more closely, with full awareness and maximum attention. Purposefully not listening to the words that spilled from the thick lips and only observing those features, he stayed sitting on the carpet and took it all in.

The person had round cheeks that only appeared when the red lips spread during a word. It was mostly the case when he pronounced certain vowels, showing his straight teeth. One could see a golden shimmer on his skin and a pair of big, dark eyes that wandered aimlessly between the lock, his chin, the laptop on his thighs and what seemed to be the tip of his right ear.

He felt confused too because today, there was no bitterness inside his chest. Maybe it was because of the words of the person behind the wall, reminding him that there was something special he cherished and that maybe the malice he had assumed to be the intent of a certain action and its outcome which forced him to exist in his current situation, hadn't been the case at all. He didn’t know.

_You will never know if you don’t say anything._

“I’m sorry for making you come here. I didn’t know that you were working from home today,” he murmured and stood up, holding his laptop with his right hand and slowly reaching for the key in the other man’s trembling fingers. The key that he hadn’t managed to stick into the keyhole for a whole minute. “Can I?” He kept his gaze on the other man’s face, before carefully pulling the set of keys out of his hand, briefly touching his bony fingers and lifting the small key. “This one?” he asked and tried to open the door. The lock gave in easily and he pushed it open, revealing a completely dark room and waited for the person in charge to walk in, turn on the lights, or maybe also say something.

There was no reply, only a rough exhale that sounded relieved as the black-haired man hurried over to his desk and simply threw several notebooks, printed out pages and a stapler to the floor by wiping over the surface with his big, flat palms.

"You-" A pause, as if the man struggled to find the right words while his eyes jumped from his chin to the laptop in his hands. "You can put your laptop here. There is- space now."

_That escalated quickly._

"Are you by chance… stressed?" he asked and put the laptop on the desk before slowly picking up the books and supplies that the other man had thrown down. "I know that it may be too late to suggest it now, but I can come another time, if it's more convenient."

"It's fine," the other man replied quickly and provided him with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Generally, his features seemed in disarray, like they couldn't quite decide how to work together. "Everything is fine. We're just going to sit down now and solve your problem. What's your problem?"

Big eyes settled on him and he wondered if it just seemed like it because of the dark or if they were wider than necessary.

"You said we're going to sit down. Would you like me to sit on your lap?" He grinned and gestured at the only chair in the room before picking up a piece of paper with about fifty tiny and meticulously drawn hearts. "That is very cute, Dr. Chae."

"I like hearts. The challenge is to draw them so that both curves are the same, like two hills. Or two buttcheeks. I like hearts." The other man blinked a few times and suddenly reached under his desk where he pulled out a drawer that was the height of a chair, which he placed next to himself. "My lap is uncomfortable, because my thighs are bony. What is the problem?"

_He looks as if he's about to lose it._

"Okay, no humour today then. The problem is that I have no idea how to categorize a few of my poems because the categories aren't there, but at the same time I'm not sure I can create my own because it's your project and your network that needs to learn, so… next time I'm going to write an email, sorry." He placed the paper with the hearts next to his laptop and turned it on, to show the poem that he meant, leaning over with one arm propped against the desk to stabilise himself.

"You can sit on my lap. That's what you wanted, right?" was the first comment as the tall man remained standing next to the desk without moving for several seconds. Then he seemed to realise that there was no way to sit while standing and he fell into his office chair like a board. The big eyes roamed over the guy's black computer screen and the objects that had been thrown to the floor before they settled on his laptop. A few deep breaths echoed through the spacious office as the other man rolled closer until he was right next to his screen and began to scroll through the poem. "You need to categorize this poem and you don't know the category? It doesn't fit into any of the already present categories?"

_This won't do._

Sighing, he closed the laptop, turned around and leaned against the table with his arms crossed. "Let's solve your problem first."

"M- my problem?" was the stuttered reply as those brown eyes got even bigger. "I'm okay, just- not very human right now. Like a robot with wrong wiring. I just need to figure it out, it won't take long and then I'll get used to it. I promise. Please don't leave even if I make you miserable. I'm going to solve your problem."

_He's not okay. Not at all._

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" he asked, leaning in and trying to meet the man's gaze. "I'm not leaving, and this is… currently this is not about you making me miserable. It's about you obviously not feeling well, so I would like to help you if I can. What do you need to feel better?"

Instead of seeming utterly confused as before, there was an immediate answer, clear and without stuttering.

"Darkness and no sound."

He blinked a few times, still unable to meet those eyes and decided to follow the clear instructions. Turning around, he walked towards the door, closed it and turned off the lights before turning around and seeing absolutely nothing apart from the two tiny lights on the other man's monitor.

_Great._

He was about to say something sarcastic but remembered in time that sounds were also taboo. Was it weird? Definitely. But it was about being productive and he really wanted to be able to continue with the job, so staying silent in a dark room was okay and somehow reminded him of every night. Nothing special whatsoever.

Seconds, maybe even minutes passed and there wasn't a single noise, not even a muffled movement that would have told him that the man at the desk had stood up. There was nothing at all, not even breaths as if he had been alone in the office all along.

He was okay with it, leaning against the door and curling his fingers after assigning words to them and forming poems by curling different combinations. Every situation was bearable when there were enough thoughts inside his head.

Suddenly there was a deep inhale and a small lamp that stood on the other man's desk turned on, illuminating parts of the room. When he looked up, he could see the long legs crossed on top of each other and the small face that looked at him with a smile. It felt a little surreal after what he had just witnessed.

"I'm sorry about that. You must be so uncomfortable. Let me get another chair," the tall man remarked as he jumped up and made his way towards him, attempting to press down the door handle, but he didn't budge. "Or- we can of course get back to that suggestion of yours. Just switch it up a little with me on your lap."

He crossed his arms and raised one eyebrow, observing the change in the other man's soft features. "Where are you going? I don't need a chair, I can stand. And I see your humour is back too. The darkness and lack of sound must've really helped. Interesting." Pushing himself off the wall, he expected the slim figure to step back, but somehow the tall man simply stood there and was pushed by his body moving forward. "Fuck, sorry. Are you okay?" he murmured.

"I'm- yeah," the guy replied before chuckling and brushed through his hair in a motion that looked subconscious. "Just overwhelmed by how buff you are. I didn't really realise that the last time we saw each other. I was too busy alternating between feeling happy and trying to understand why you weren't. But let's focus on your problem."

_He felt happy? But why?_

Making his way towards his desk, the slim man sat down and reopened his laptop, clicking his way through it and for some reason also typing in his password which made no sense whatsoever. Once he opened the poem, he began reading through it, middle finger scrolling up and down repeatedly with the mouse as if that helped him to read.

_He… really doesn't understand why you were mad. How is that even possible?_

"The one with the moans, I wasn't sure how you would categorize it. Tell me if you need help understanding what this is about." Hoseok moved closer and leaned his hips against the table, looking around the mostly dark office. There were no pictures and no personal belongings, it could've belonged to anybody. There was a certain curiosity he felt about the person who ruined his life and who felt comfortable working in a dark and empty office.

"Moans should be about sex, or not?" Again, there was a bright grin as the other man read through it again. His expression changed and despite the darkness it looked like blush appeared on his cheeks. "Or not."

"There's a reason why I write, and you sit at the computer and click around in the dark. It's oversimplified. Even if you ignore the fact that one can also moan due to pain, this poem is not about sex. Can you have sex without touching? Tell me." He crossed his arms, leaned in and grinned in the other man's face.

"Yeah," was the immediate reply, but the explanation was slower as the man sucked on his lips like it was a lollipop. "Through a wall."

His eyes widened, and he stared before clearing his throat and lifting one hand to gesture. "Well- objectively, you can't have sex through a wall, but you could- let's say you could share pleasure without touching anybody but yourself and still, it is an act of being with another person. I'm not sure if it makes sense to you, anyways, what I meant is that this poem is not about sex. It's about intimacy, but a special kind of intimacy. A connection that even transcends the material barrier that is there and enables a certain physical pleasure despite the distance."

"I like it," the other man whispered and glanced towards the screen, eyes moving from line to line once again. It seemed strange without proper illumination, as if it wasn't in the middle of the day, but much later, late enough to only see a single table lamp and a computer screen amidst the darkness. "You could still reach out and imagine the touch, knowing that the other person is right there, behind that wall. The category for this is intimacy, like the first poem I showed you, sharing a bath even though that one wasn't sexual. So, it can be both, sexual, but also not."

"But there's a difference compared to the first one you showed me. In the first one, the author described something that he enjoyed, creating a new meaning into a seemingly daily act, but this…" he stopped and turned around, leaning forward and pointing his finger at the three words 'When all I know'. "This contains a certain longing. I wrote that the warmth of his hand and paper is all that I know, but it is not enough. Does it make sense? So, it's not only about intimacy, it's also about longing."

"It makes a lot of sense." This time the other man was chewing on his cheek as he stared at arbitrary features of his face, not really meeting his gaze. The bony hand was tapping out a rhythm he couldn't really follow, too focused on the following words. "Why don't you find out more? Satisfy the longing? Shouldn't one act if there is something that one really wants?"

"Mmh, it's complicated. Imagine a castle, a sand castle. You built it beautifully and you really want to know more about it, want to explore it, love it, but what if it breaks as soon as you touch it? It's like balancing between the longing and the fear of breaking everything by taking the wrong step." He stared at the lines, thinking how to wrap his thoughts into another one, give them a home.

"Like this," he whispered and pulled the device towards himself and typed out a poem.

'Would it be fine

to see the shadows

dancing on your face

and touch your skin even once,

for the loss of the warmth

of your hand

and paper.'

He could feel eyes on his as he typed, remaining there until he finished and the man next to him pulled his chair a little closer to him.

"Can I read it?" he asked quietly, lips way closer to his ear than was necessary and he felt a familiar pull in his stomach in reaction to the low voice. He didn’t quite expect it, but in some sense, it was understandable. He really liked how words sounded if somebody had a low voice. Deeper and warmer.

"Sure. I'm feeding your database with the excerpts of my messy thoughts," he commented and turned the laptop, so the other man could read.

He observed the big eyes that took in line after line before pausing and resuming from the top. The other man must have read the short poem at least four more times before finally turning towards him and glancing almost right into his eyes.

_Almost._

"Maybe I can help.” Dr. Chae leaned closer and carefully placed his hand on top of his, so light that he wasn't sure it lay on top of his own.

Joking about sitting on each other’s laps because there was only one chair was one thing but feeling a warm hand on top of his changed the whole situation entirely. Taking in the faint warmth and how the slim fingers felt on top of his, he lifted his gaze to the man sitting in his black office chair and touching the back of his hand as if that's what they had met for.

“And how- would you like to help me?” he asked, tilting his head and glancing right into the big eyes that looked warm in the yellowish light of the table lamp, but escaped him after a split second, playing a game of hide and seek that he couldn’t seem to win no matter how many times he tried.

"By figuring out the conflict." There was the hint of a smile as the hand on top of his applied a little more pressure and the fingers slipped between his own. He didn’t expect it, not at all, but at the same time his curiosity got the better of him, making him nod and wait for what was about to happen.

"Hand and paper," the other man murmured before using his fingers to wrap around his wrist and lift his hand to the small face, cupping the round cheeks and the delicate jawline, thumb purposefully arranged to brush over the plump mouth. "Face and touching," it whispered against his touch.

Some of it made sense, at least more than his previous attempts at explaining what had happened to him. The face that he had wrapped his fingers around, the face with the big eyes and lips had started looking different from his memories and maybe because of that, his feelings of anger and bitterness started to change. Slowly making room for something else entirely. Something that resembled the familiar tingling of physical attraction.

It was more than insane, and he could have asked questions, dug to the core of why they ended up in the situation they were in, but he didn’t want to. The pressure of awareness had already pushed against his temples and he didn’t want to make it feel even more real. Not yet. Instead, he was curious. Curious about where the sudden tension would take them.

“The conflict is more complex than that.” He used his thumb to briefly brush over the plump mouth, parting it carefully. “You took the literal meaning of the words. And even though they do have one, there are other meanings hiding in the depth, wrapped into words and their sequences,” he whispered and decided to play along, leaning in closer. “The feeling of hands and paper is connected to a castle of sand, a big one, the emotional value it has is enormous and even though the longing to touch and to explore can add to the emotions I’m feeling, the wish to feel the skin against mine, to see and get to know the face and how it reacts to my touch, is something certainly sexual. Do you understand?”

"I do," the low voice replied as his hand remained on the small face and he felt the vibrations of each syllable against his fingertips. "Which is why you need to split it. If hands and paper are what you have, and you don't want to break it, you can still get the face and the touch, only somewhere else."

He stared for a few seconds, letting the words flow through his mind, trying to unwrap a meaning that could’ve been hiding in the straightforward suggestion, but even after a few seconds had passed, and he observed the lack of expressions on the other man’s face, his first understanding remained.

“Mhm,” he hummed and wrapped the fingers of his free hand around the armrest of Dr. Chae’s- Hyungwon’s office chair, leaning forward slowly and taking in the tingling from the proximity, the slowly developing excitement that stemmed from feeling the warmth of another human’s skin. “But isn’t the longing to touch limited to the person with the warm hands? Do you think it can be replaced by touching somebody else?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet and intently observing every twitch on the handsome face.

He could see the red lips part as blood filled them out as soon as the distance between them decreased. Despite the changes and the air that brushed over his face from the other man’s exhale, there was still no reply, only eyes that couldn’t decide where to look. Suddenly, a hand travelled from his wrist along his forearm, caressing the skin there until it paused right below his shoulder before slipping under the sleeve of his t-shirt.

“Are my hands not warm?”

He smiled because the question was so naive somehow, as if the man in front of him had no idea about the rules of emotional attraction, about the distinction between an intimate touch and one based on pure sexual attraction.

“They are. It’s not that you lack anything that the literal meaning of the words describe. The difference is how I perceive it. But then again- I don’t know what it would feel like to touch that person, so there can be no comparison. Not objectively.” Leaning a little closer, he put more strength into holding himself up, flexing under the other man’s fingertips and brushing his thumb over the red lips once again. “Would it make a difference for you? Whether it is me who you kiss or somebody who you really long to kiss?”

“No,” was the immediate reply and he was blessed with a smile and a kiss against his fingertips. At first glance it seemed innocent, the way those plump lips brushed over his thumb without doing anything else, but the slightly lifted eyebrows and the hint of a grin changed the impression. “Because it is the same person.”

“You are longing to kiss me?” he asked with a hint of surprise, observing the micro gestures as well as he could in the limited illumination. It was an advantage of living during the night-time. His eyes were taught to see well under circumstances like these and he used his skill to try catching that gaze, but again, he wasn’t successful.

“How long have you felt that way?” he asked quietly.

Those eyes observed his lips, gaze tracing the shape of his mouth as if he was thinking about the question and how to answer it. Maybe he even contemplated how truthful to be, the hesitation suggested it. The seconds ticked by as fingers slipped a little further under the sleeves of his t-shirt and applied pressure to his skin, just enough to feel them.

“Since I saw you.”

“Since you saw me?” he mirrored, enjoying the pressure of the warm fingers against his arm, the pace Hyungwon used to cover more skin, caressing his shoulder under the fabric of his t-shirt. Curious, he stroked over the soft cheek, over the blush that spread on the warm skin to Hyungwon’s slim neck, enjoying the pulsating sensation against his fingertips like a clock that ticked along with the seconds that they just stared at each other.

“Mmh.” He felt the vibrations against his fingers, travelling down to his palm.

“Unfortunately, imagination is, in most cases, more satisfying than reality. Do you want to know? How reality feels?”

“Do you want to kiss me?” the other man asked back and nibbled on his bottom lip, looking a little more uncertain than his previous grins had suggested. “What you yearn for could also be your imagination, but I am right here. Not imaginary.”

He nodded with a smile because the other man’s words summed up what he had thought about since the night he had touched himself to breaths and moans that transcended stone and air. His imagination, the meaning he had assigned to the words the person behind the wall wrote to him existed inside his head, building a sandcastle all on its own. His reality was that the reality had left him. That he was alone with the night, building sand castles because anything else was too painful. “I know that my longing is probably the longing for the product of my imagination, for the meaning that I assigned to words I read and shaping them into something I wanted to hear. That’s why I’m feeling your pulse under my fingertips and not his. It will remain inside my head, but right now, I'm curious and want to know how you taste.” Inhaling with his eyes closed, he opened them again and slowly leaned forward, holding on when he could feel Hyungwon’s breath against his lips. There was nothing more exciting than the moment before a kiss.

He enjoyed the silence that was only interrupted by a gasp that slowly transformed into a rough exhale. The grip on his upper arm increased in strength and when he stretched the seconds even longer, there was a slight tugging, just enough for him to register.

Waiting a few more seconds because the change in breathing pattern excited him beyond belief, he finally leaned in and placed an innocent soft kiss against the other man’s lips that gave in like an air cushion. The first touch felt good, providing a certain balance between his curiosity, the pulling in his stomach as a sign that there could be a need for more and space to retreat if something didn’t feel right. His fingers travelled from the warm neck towards the other man’s hair without pulling at it and he parted his own lips to feel more, get more of the plump mouth, taste it for real and create some of the reality that Hyungwon seemed to be longing for and that could become a welcome distraction from his own.

The plump lips didn't move at first, as if to test out just like he had done. The warmth remained and so did the exhales against his skin that only got quicker the longer he extended the moment. Sharing the excitement delighted him, adding to the atmosphere of the dark room, the minimal distance between them and the sudden heat of the air. He could feel the soft black locks slip through his fingers and pressure against his palm as the man in front of him leaned into his touch to finally part his lips just enough to deepen the kiss. Despite wanting it there was so much hesitation and exploring, fingers pushing and pulling just like that plump mouth.

Their position was incredibly uncomfortable as he barely held on with one arm and the chair threatened to roll back due to the strength he used to keep himself in place. At some point he let go and leaned back, walking a few steps, breathing quickly, his eyes unwilling to leave the other man’s face. “Did it feel good?” he whispered, curling both hands around the desk and leaning his hips against it. He liked having something solid between his fingers, to feel like he had some control over the situation.

The man in front of him was breathing quickly, eyes widened in what seemed to be wonder. His long fingers stroked over his thighs before curling around the arm rests of his chair and he could see how tightly they were holding on. The question remained if it was desire for more or hesitation to acknowledge what had happened. The intensity with which those big eyes focused on his lips spoke for the first.

"Yeah," the low voice whispered finally, and he observed how the tip of Hyungwon’s pink tongue wet his full lips. "Time stops."

Time did stop, making everything around him seem as if he created it. As if it was a situation out of his mind, his imagination, like he had felt it before. The pulling in his stomach and the way he chewed on his bottom lip absentmindedly showed that it wasn’t quite the truth. If it was something he created, how could he have been so curious and excited about it? His body wouldn’t react like that.

One of the most prominent thoughts on his mind was the wish to taste more and to feel more, looking at the handsome person in front of him, it seemed like Hyungwon could make his thoughts more bearable. For a brief moment. When time stopped.

When he glanced at the big eyes that escaped him once again, he could almost feel his thoughts circle around the image of the small face inside his mind and its appraisal, observing with every passing second, the features gradually change, and he wasn’t able to recollect the way it had been before. Before his villain suddenly turned into a saviour.

“Then come here,” he whispered.

***

His naked feet on the cold floors before they finally reach the fluffy carpet, a prettily folded sheet of paper on top of it, a letter, looking brighter than the sun with the few rays shining on top of it. His hand as it reaches towards it, excitement bubbling in his chest and mind full of possibilities about what the letter could contain, what the answer might be after another long night that the man on the other side of the wall didn’t sleep.

Then - suddenly - a sound from the bedroom. His fingers don’t quite reach the letter, only a few centimetres are left, but the distance increases as he moves back and hurries towards the bedroom, grabbing his phone and answering the phone call with shaking hands and stuttering breaths.

Nothing follows, seconds, minutes of emptiness as the call already ended, but he hadn’t moved. The calendar on the wall says that it is a Friday, the day he works from home, the day he does not have to go and pretend. It is supposed to be that day, but the phone call says something else. There is a change, a switch in days and the words from the caller and the information on his calendar do not add up.

Still, his feet move, and his hands do too, collecting clothes, pulling them over his naked body and, like every day, a key and a wallet slip into his jeans pocket before he leaves. The fabric of his shirt feels wrong, itchy at the back of his neck and he cannot think about anything else as he crosses two traffic lights, gets into a bus, holds onto a handlebar at the back and gets out. There are no thoughts on his mind as the streets and cars pass him by, as his heart beats furiously and his legs finally put one foot in front of the other until he ends up next to an office that was supposed to be familiar and a man that he should have been glad to see.

More nothing, a broken program and then, suddenly, darkness and silence.

_A reboot._

It felt as if he finally lifted his head out of a bucket of water, hungrily inhaling the fresh air and realizing that he wasn’t where he thought he was. His office was familiar, only the objects on the desk were arranged differently and instead of being on his own, there was a man leaning against the door and bending his fingers in an arbitrary rhythm.

_It’s him, he came again._

His mind resembled a dam that had let loose as thought after thought rushed in and reminded him of everything human he had done wrong. He hadn’t greeted properly, he hadn’t opened the door, he hadn’t offered a chair, he hadn’t attempted to keep up small talk or at least look at the handsome face for several seconds. He hadn’t done any of those things and the person he hadn’t done them with was one of the three that mattered the most.

_You might have ruined it all, scared him off with your real self._

He had immediately tried everything he could to fix it, joked, pretended to be easy-going, talked about sex because humans blushed and tended to like that. He was playful and charming, smiling and gesturing because that was expected of him. He made sure to arrange his legs and arms in a way that seemed welcoming and he focused on the problem at hand. He did everything he could until his eyes ran from one line of a poem to the next and instead of struggling to understand what he was reading, it felt like he was _living_ the poem, breathing it every night as he wrote letter after letter.

_It feels so familiar to you._

The words spoke of intimacy and the experience was still so fresh that his mind immediately provided the images, making him blush and remember the way he had felt, the way he responded to the sounds behind the wall and the words written on a white sheet of paper. The fact that the man in front of him was able to write about something similar, describe it like that and remind him of the intimacy he desired to share excited him, because it meant that his saviour was longing for something similar, for a connection and somebody to be with.

_Only that the person isn’t you._

The feeling in his chest was familiar, like a continuous scratching over paper, attempting to catch attention, but without trying too hard. He knew those thoughts and feelings from before, those concerns about who the man in front of him desired to be with. He had experienced the hurt before, the nothing that followed, but the solution had been apparent and now the man who was meant for him stood in front of him once again. The intimacy Hoseok longed for and the person he desired to be with should have been him, but the longer he tried to understand the poem and the image of a sandcastle, the more obvious it became that it wasn’t about him.

_Because you are right here. You cannot break just because he steps closer._

But what was the point in longing for something that wasn’t there, if one could long for something that was? For somebody that was close enough to inhale a whiff of cherry scent and smile because it was delicious.

There was a conflict, but the solution to the conflict seemed easy. The person that was desired couldn’t be reached, not without possibly breaking something. There was no need to break it, not if one could find a way around it, satisfy the longing differently, through somebody it was meant for.

_You are, you are meant for it._

He showed it, proving that everything the poem mentioned, he could do too. He had warm hands and he could be touched, be close enough to provide intimacy. There was so much he could do when it came to being close, so shouldn’t that be enough to be chosen? He still remembered the other man’s words from before, that he had been the reason for his misery. Wasn’t being the reason for excitement and arousal a better solution? He could do that, he only needed to learn how.

The thought was simple, but the action wasn’t. He wished that he knew how to act, how to initiate and which words to say, but none of the books or movies he remembered provided him with the answer. Remaining silent seemed to be the better choice, to simply observe the man in front of him, attempting to read possible signs he was making. Coming closer meant that he was interested, didn’t it?

_He is making it so difficult for you._

Whenever he thought that he stepped closer, there was another question he couldn’t answer, another explanation why he wasn’t able to provide the intimacy necessary and another sign that seemed to tell him that the man in front of him was interested. He seemed interested in him, in the kisses he was offering, and, in the attraction, he expressed, then why wasn’t he acting on it? Why was he asking about how long he’d desired to kiss him and whether he would prefer to kiss him or somebody he longed to kiss?

_Isn’t it the same person? He is a person you desire to kiss._

Ever since he saw those curved lips press onto a pair of lips that weren’t his, he knew that it wasn’t right, that it should have been his lips.

_Because he is yours._

His heartbeat transformed into a drum when that curved mouth finally admitted to wanting to kiss him, when it kept moving closer and he knew that it was going to happen, that things were finally going to change now and despite not being human there was finally somebody to take care of him, to treat him like people were treated in movies, with kisses and everything.

The seconds passed, and he could smell the scent of cherries, so strong that it tingled in his nostrils and he inhaled sharply, still waiting for those curved lips to touch his. He wanted it so badly, to finally know what it felt like, to find out if it was going to change everything. What if that was the one thing that changed one's perception, that suddenly made everything else make sense and fit into place. Maybe he had been missing out all this time because he was strange, but was this going to fix it?

His fingers gripped the firm muscles below the other man’s t-shirt and he couldn’t wait anymore, tugging to have him closer, to finally bridge the distance and feel what a real kiss was like. Then - suddenly - it just happened. Lips touched his own, light and for no longer than a second before moving back.

He blinked, trying to understand if something had changed, if he was a different person now. But there wasn’t enough time for that because suddenly those warm lips were back, applying more pressure. Warmth spread from his lips and seemed to travel along his bloodstream downwards, burning up his whole body and making his hands tighten around the soft skin. Fingers caressed him and sank into his hair without tugging at it. At first, he was worried, scared even, that it was going to be unpleasant and he would have to push the other man away, but it wasn’t like anything he knew. Instead of discomfort there was only excitement and the lack of air in his lungs, stemming from his attempts to keep their lips attached to each other.

No other thought was on his mind, no sounds, no bright objects that caught his attention, no smells, nothing. There was only the feeling of lips against his and the hand on his head that he tried to push against because it felt so nice. Kissing was like submerging into a cocoon instead of a bucket of water, a place where his thoughts seemed to pause, and only pleasant sensations were loud enough to get his attention.

It felt perfect.

Until something felt off and he realized what it was when the other man suddenly stepped back and leaned against the desk. It was his position, the chair he had been sitting on. He couldn’t cover himself with the sensation of kissing when he was so far away, sitting instead of having his whole body wrapped around the person in front of him.

Those curved lips moved and said something instead of kissing him and he simply hummed, impatiently waiting for them to return to his mouth. When those eyes remained on his face without any attempt to move closer, he realized that it had been a question, the simplest question of them all.

“Yeah,” he whispered and thought about what a second felt like. Usually he knew, able to tap it out on his finger, but right now he couldn’t be sure anymore. Every moment that he wasn’t kissing felt like an hour that passed without him moving. “Time stops.”

More hours passed, each an undefined length as dark eyes shifted from his face to his eyes and he glanced away, realizing there wasn’t enough oxygen in his lungs from the excitement and the heat that had developed in his body.

When he was just about to stand up himself, he heard a simple demand, whispered into the space between them.

“Then come here.”

He didn’t know how much time passed between him jumping off the chair and the moment he pushed the other man back onto the desk to wrap his arms around his neck and climb him like a tree. It couldn’t have been much, but since time had stopped there was no way to tell. The only things he could feel was the hard desk against his knees and a warm hand on his waist until there was finally nothing but warm lips. He hummed into the kiss, opening his mouth because it was warmer that way and tasted more interesting, like a glass of honey that he stuck his tongue into because it was delicious.

Hoseok shifted under him and he was pulled further on top of his thighs. The only sounds he could hear were his own but after an indefinite number of seconds, he heard a hum and felt a hot tongue tracing his bottom lip playfully before sucking it into the equally hot mouth.

He liked it so much that he hummed loudly, trying to show how much he enjoyed it, like cats purr to show approval. If humans couldn’t talk, there had to be alternatives, right? His hands roamed over the muscular back at first, just travelling along the fabric of what was probably a t-shirt, but he wasn’t too sure because his whole attention was focused on trying to get more lips between his and also to find out if it only tasted like honey at the edge of the lips or also somewhere else. Was kissing always this delicious? He didn’t know, but he also didn’t want to stop finding out.

Instead of getting more, it got less and was replaced by a low voice asking him whether he was comfortable ‘like this’ and black, round eyes trying to catch his gaze.

_What does 'like this' even mean?_

If it was the kissing then of course he was comfortable, especially when it continued instead of getting less. If it was the position, then he couldn’t care less because he wasn’t all too sure where his limbs were in the first place. It didn’t really matter as long as he was able to keep his body wrapped around the other man and his arms didn’t give out on him while holding onto the broad neck. He licked over what must have been the bottom lip, before deciding to taste more and try each of the mouth corners and the whole bottom lip which he sucked into his mouth. It was tasty too and there was no need to keep his eyes open, they only distracted him from the way it felt to have the combination of kissing and warmth that pooled between his legs.

A few sounds followed that he couldn't quite locate, but it didn't matter to him.

"You- you need to be careful," the low voice tried again, using the breaks between kisses before the person under him shifted and he was lifted in the air but remained attached to the warm body. "I like it too, but I don't want you to hurt yourself."

“It doesn’t hurt,” he murmured and wrapped his arms tightly around the firm neck, just in case there were any attempts to pull back like before. He didn’t want to stop. Now that there was no desk below his knees, he simply used his legs to circle the other man’s hips and crossed them at his behind, making sure to keep them tight. There were warm hands on his thighs and he liked those too, wiggling a little because he felt them better that way and they added to the sensation of the kiss. “I can only feel your lips when you kiss me.”

Hoseok turned and he felt a cool sensation against his back before there were lips on his neck, travelling towards the shell of his ear, then quick exhales and the warmth of a soft tongue.

His perceptions changed, refocusing from his lips only to the path of his neck that was being caressed by wetness along with loud rough breaths. It was easier to filter out every other sound, everything but breaths and the hammering of his heart. Each exhale matched his own and he couldn’t help a moan, eyes still closed as he pressed his head to the hard surface behind himself and tried to tilt it back. It didn’t work too well, but he still grabbed a handful of black hair and tried to have it closer to his neck.

"You're about to take my awareness, and I'm not sure if I'm okay with that, so… what do you like? Tell me," the low voice whispered right next to his ear as he was pushed flat against the wall with Hoseok's groin pressed against his own and distracted by fingers that curled around his thighs.

He tried to process the question, but didn’t come up with anything, so he simply pretended that there had been no question and tried to find those lips again, moaning as soon as he did. They were still just as delicious, and he licked between them to get another taste of honey while pushing his groin against whatever was there to provide friction.

There was a hiss that he didn't produce, but the friction disappeared, and so did the lips as his feet touched the floor, legs trembling from flexing his muscles for too long.

"I can't just do whatever, Hyungwon. I need feedback, but you don't even look at me. Are you sure you're feeling well?" the low voice asked, breathy, but sounding so much calmer than he felt.

_Why do you have to talk? You never know what to say._

He took a few deep breaths and forced himself to open his eyes and meet the other man’s gaze, staring at the black orbs for exactly three seconds before nodding with a smile and wrapping his arms around the warm neck once again. He didn’t want to seem strange and didn’t know what he did differently from what humans did, but he slowed down just enough to keep staring at the handsome face as he tried to lift his shaky legs and return them back to where they were. It had been a good place, the best place.

"You said you wanted to kiss me ever since you first saw me. Now please tell me where you want this kiss to take you. What should be the outcome? Do you want to be touched? How? And not in your office I suppose? You see, it's a bit complicated. Especially because your reaction is intense and makes me lose my calm. I'm trying to understand if it's okay." Hoseok curled his arm around his waist and pulled him flush against his firm body, preventing him from wrapping his legs around him.

He pouted before he was able to remember what a normal person would have done in this situation. Probably he should have come up with some very good arguments as to why everything that the man holding him had just said didn’t matter and was therefore irrelevant to what they were doing right now. There was probably a good argument that justified kissing without talking and without stopping, but he didn’t know it, so he continued pouting as his thoughts kept circling around the desire to kiss and only rarely managed an excursus away from curved lips and towards his desk or the expression on the handsome face.

"You don't know? That's okay, but you should definitely think about that." Suddenly, the man smiled warmly and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his lips and he should've held onto it, but it was too late, the warmth disappeared, and he could only watch as Hoseok took his laptop and opened the door next to him. "I'll ask you again if I have the chance. Maybe then the question won't matter anymore. Take care, Hyungwon."

He tried to process what was happening, why a laptop was packed up and he was hearing a phrase for departing, but then the door closed, and he was alone with his tiny desk lamp in his office where he should have been thinking about work but couldn’t find a single coherent thought that was related to it.

_

The key turned in the lock without much effort this time and revealed his apartment, just the way he had left it. Shoes lay in disarray next to the shoe rack and he instantly saw a red sock lying on the threshold to the bedroom.

The sight was disturbing, mostly because he made sure to leave his apartment in a controlled state of disorder instead of whatever he had done to it right before leaving for work.

_This isn’t like you at all._

He only vaguely remembered his thoughts and actions before leaving. There had been the constant repetition of what he had to do before leaving the house, the single steps of his morning routine, that he internally screamed at himself to make sure he didn't forget. None of those repetitions were present now.

The mess that had been his thoughts seemed far away even though currently they weren't particularly orderly either. Usually there was nothing when he got home, an empty shell with empty thoughts and an attempt to focus on a single thing for minutes. The fluffy carpet knew those moments well as it experienced them all with him.

This time, his vision wasn't blurry, and he didn't feel like he was fading into nothingness either. Instead, his thoughts kept jumping from the random items he discovered while taking off his shoes, to the sensation of lips against his.

_The one feeling you imagined countless times but didn't get right even once._

He had enjoyed it so much, as if the magic that books talked about upon experiencing the first kiss was real. There was excitement, the quickness of his breaths and still the inability to get enough air. There was the lack of thoughts on his mind, nothing but a curved mouth and how good it tasted. For once there was no sudden detail, a sudden scent or sudden feeling that threw him out of balance and made him strange.

_You felt human when you kissed._

Usually there were so many distractions around him, thoughts and associations that he couldn't turn off. There wasn't a single moment that he didn't feel overwhelmed by his own senses, but…

_But when you kiss there is only the feeling of lips against yours._

Maybe that was how humans felt, how they experienced the world, a single sensation with nothing disturbing their perception of it. He wanted to feel that way too, to feel nothing but those lips and think nothing but how much he enjoyed it.

His fingers lifted to his lips all on their own, brushing over the top one as he imagined the sensation again, the warmth and the tingling that travelled down to his groin. The touch had been too vivid to be able to imagine it with the same intensity.

Sighing, he let himself fall on the fluffy carpet and stared at the white ceiling, arms flailing around as if he was attempting to create a snow angel.

Just when he was about to lift his arms higher, a paper brushed over his elbow and he froze.

_The letter._

He couldn't even imagine how he had forgotten about one of the few things that provided him with genuine joy. He giggled and unwrapped the paper before starting to read, unable to wait until he made his way to his desk.

His neighbour showed him that it was okay to have asked his flirting question after all since he was only in underwear. He wrote a mental note for himself to just ask next time instead of assuming. Maybe he would have successfully flirted instead of describing every step?

_When you tried to program a flirting bot, people told you it's too honest._

Not bothering to stand up, he crawled towards his desk while reading on, feeling excited because of the many words and the many descriptions. His hand finally reached a pen and a pink sheet of paper that he used as safety paper for his fountain pen. Since it was the first sheet in his hands, he used it for his answer, feeling impatient.

'First, I'm so sorry about the late reply. I didn't get to write to you this morning, so you must have been sad when you came back and there was no letter. I felt happy though upon reading your letter, so happy that my hands are restless and keep drawing things. (I hope you like my hearts!)

Here is my next attempt: What are you wearing?'

He smiled and realised he was still wearing way too much clothing. Still reading, he started out by undoing his pants and pulling them down his legs before discarding them in a laundry basket. His shirt was next as he let his eyes travel from one line to the next, heat developing in his cheeks the more of Hoseok's description he read. His neighbour didn't want to call what they shared a jerk-off session, but his descriptions made Hyungwon want to follow it up with exactly that.

Chewing on his cheek, he glanced at his naked body and the obvious reaction between his legs before deciding to document it.

'You made me hard. Your descriptions are very clear and like pictures in my head. I think therefore both of us reacted. I heard the sounds and somehow, when you brushed your fingers over the wall and I heard it, it seemed like you were brushing them over my own. I am also somebody who gets lost in pleasure, so I'm not quite sure what I did, but I remember your voice very well. You would probably be good at reading such detailed descriptions into people's ears! You can start with mine if you like.

You said that you give your partners the maximum of what you can give, so I'd love to experience that. I've never really thought about what I can give, but if it makes the other person feel good, then I want to give it. You said that you like to provide pleasure and I think that's exciting. If it's you, then I'm sure I can bear your touch. I like roughness and extreme pleasure, but most of the time I can be overwhelmed if somebody randomly decides to rub my back. Maybe it's about expectations, I'm not quite sure yet. I'll let you know once I find out!'

His over sensitivities were rather difficult to explain to humans, but maybe the man on the other side of the wall would be able to understand. Now that he thought about it, the kissing hadn't overwhelmed him either, rather the opposite. It hadn't been enough, so he kept wanting to resume it to empty his head from unnecessary thoughts.

_You must tell him about it. Maybe he can explain how it feels to humans?_

'Do you remember your first kiss? I still cannot believe it, but I had mine today! I feel like a protagonist in a movie, a human! You told me to admit that I don't know what I did wrong and I'm not sure if I did that, but it somehow ended nicely. I got kissed and it was so nice that I forgot everything else. Are kisses always like that? Like getting knocked out with a book, only nice. Not sure that makes sense to you. I'm still so excited and feel tingling all over. Can people kiss through walls? I'd do it immediately.

P.S. I also always try to touch your hands because they are so delicate. Also, you didn't tell me if I'm your friend. Was that a case of human avoidance because you don't want to say 'no'? Just know that there are three special people for me and you are one of them.'

It still felt surreal to look at a page filled with his writing, a pink page this time. Wondering if he could improve the appearance of his letter, he searched for an instruction to make a flower on the Internet and tried it out. In the end, it did look like something, but he wasn't quite sure if it qualified as a flower.

_Maybe he will forgive you for answering so late._

Grinning, he looked for watercolour paints next and painted the red colour onto his lips before kissing one petal of the flower. The result was funny, but still better than just a letter. Excited to get a reply, he hurried towards the door next to his own, feet creating a rhythm on the cool floors.

Instead of simply sticking the flower through the door slit, he waited this time. He waited and counted the seconds until a shadow appeared and then, finally, he was able to touch warm hands, even if just for a second.

Only on the way back to his apartment, he realised that he understood the longing that Hoseok had talked about in his poem. A longing to touch more than just a few delicate fingers upon delivering a letter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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CHAPTER 5

_“You don’t believe me?”_

_“Nope. You have to promise.”_

_“I promise, but you probably won’t remember.”_

_“I will. Humans forget, but I don't.”_

___

‘Didn’t think you would get over us so quickly.’

The words stared at him from the illuminated screen of his smartphone and it felt surreal to still experience some of the tingling on his skin after having the plump mouth all over his, holding the cute flower-shaped letter in his right hand, still remembering the warmth of those fingers brushing over his and at the same time looking at those words. He was caught in a triangle, running aimlessly from one corner to the next, unable to locate himself.

His feelings were ambivalent in all ways possible. Angry at the message, the accusation, the use of the word ‘us’ as if it was the case, an entity that still manifested somewhere in a parallel reality and he only needed to open the door to see it, to return to what had been. Pretending as if it wasn’t like a room full of shards that made his feet bleed as soon as he walked in. He didn’t want to walk any further.

That was the point at which his mind preferred to return to the memory of those thick lips, the scent of unfamiliar warm skin, the soft tongue eating him like candy, low hums, harsh breaths, another body on top of him and the lack of air that was so strange, so welcoming and so addicting that he felt like drowning.

He waited, breathing regularly to pull himself out of the sensations that his body enjoyed and remembered so well, but which shouldn’t have interfered with how he felt about the words that the person on the other side of the wall sent to him. It was different. ‘That’s why you need to split it’ the low voice breathed in his mind, sending shivers down his spine.

_He is right. You need to split it because it’s two different things._

After a few more inhales, hiding his phone in one of the drawers and holding the letter with both hands, he felt ready to read and let the words absorb him, change him and force him to feel a special kind of way. The way only the person on the other side of the wall was able to make him feel.

Lifting his finger, he stroked over the red spot that was shaped like plump lips and smiled, imagining how those lips would look and feel, but his mind returned to the memory of the last pair of lips that he had the opportunity to taste. Maybe he needed to read those words to be able to separate the sensations, the people involved, his feelings.

His eyes ran over those lines, gasping, chuckling and thinking so many things at once that he, as before, decided to write his reply right away to keep those thoughts honest and unchanged.

His heart was beating for so many different reasons at once, the arousal, the excitement, the emotions that he felt about those words, about the fact that the other man told him about his first kiss, how little sense it made that he talked about rough sex and wanting to experience his ‘maximum’ himself in the same letter. He felt some jealousy too, fuelled by the longing to feel those lips himself, the longing to know whether he would really manage to make the man behind the wall feel good with his kiss, the same way he had explained it in the letter.

‘I have to admit that I indeed felt a bit sad as your letters get me safely through the day, but the shape of your lips on the paper made me feel a special kind of way. Now I just wonder what they would feel like, your lips.

I took a shower, so I am indeed not wearing anything currently, but I will get dressed after writing to you.

You said you had your first kiss? Was that a joke? Because you keep talking about pleasure and sex as if it’s the most common thing to you, but how can it be that you’ve never kissed before? If you really had your first kiss, I hope that the person that kissed you made it the most beautiful moment for you, took care of you and made sure that you could lose yourself just the way that you wanted to. Did they?

I don’t think one can kiss through the wall, where would the sensations come from? The wall is hard and probably not very delicious either, but I can imagine so well that your lips are. Let me try describing how I imagine it. Do you think it’s okay if I do?

If I wanted to kiss you, I would-’ he stopped and licked over his lips, staring at the kiss mark on the paper and let his imagination run wild, putting the thoughts and description on paper.

‘I would reach for your hand, softly stroking over your arm and shoulder, touching your neck and tracing your jaw. My other hand would wrap around your waist and I would pull you closer to me, so you can feel my body against yours, how warm it is. Exhaling against your lips, my hand would slip into your hair and I would wait for a few seconds, enjoying the way your breathing pattern might show me that you are as excited as I am. I would place a brief kiss against your lips to feel their softness before pulling you even closer and taste you until you can’t think about anything else. If you only knew how much I want to kiss you right now, even though I’m aware that there is another person who can give it to you and who you enjoy being with. I still wanted to be honest and hope that I can continue being honest with you, my very special friend from behind the wall. I will be your friend if that’s what you would like me to be.

I kissed someone today too. Someone I would never have thought I would kiss. It was more like trying to get a break from my thoughts and I liked it, but I need to know what my partner enjoys being able to go further, but they didn’t really know. I had to stop to not do anything that they didn’t want. It’s complicated, right? But for me, to lose myself the way you explained, I need to know what the person I’m with wants and expects from me. If you want me to kiss you, make you feel good, you need to say something like: I want you to kiss and touch me until I can’t think about anything else.

P.S. You are special to me and I would love to lend my voice for you to feel pleasure. H.’

He applied some of his lip balm and placed a kiss on the edge of the letter that now smelled like cherries and had a lip-shaped stain, but maybe the man on the other side of the wall would cherish it the same way he did with the colourful kiss on top of pink paper.

Putting on a bathrobe, he walked out and crouched in front of the apartment next to his, slowly slipping his fingers with the letter under the door. He instantly felt the warmth that coursed through all his body and he gasped quietly, feeling so many things at once.

No matter whether he was stuck in a confusing triangle or not, right now, it seemed to be the corner he loved being stuck in and returning to the most.

***

The sun moved below the horizon and took with it the light that had danced over his furniture and the surface of his desk. It wasn't late yet, not according to the person behind the wall, but maybe it was late enough to share at least a little bit of the night.

He had been waiting, sitting at his desk and observing how the light created different patterns before finally disappearing. His alarm clock showed a two, three and two zeros and he finally allowed himself to open the letter he had waited several hours to read.

_Will he understand why?_

He rarely made sense to humans, but somehow it felt like the person behind the wall might understand if he explained it well enough. A new paper, this time a white one, lay on his desk with the first few sentences written even though he didn't know what to reply to yet.

'I am writing already, but I have not read your reply yet. You're probably wondering why, but somehow, I felt like it was still too bright, too much sunlight in my apartment. The time that matters so much to you is the night and maybe I'll be able to feel more of it when I read your letter in the dark, with a small lamp.

Do you turn on a small lamp? Or do you prefer complete darkness? If I could choose, then I wouldn't bother with light at all. The darkness feels calming to me, like there is nothing but what I hear, feel and taste on my tongue. Sometimes when I wake up in the night, I just lie on my bed and listen. To you.

The sun has finally set and it's dark, so I will be reading your letter now. I hope you didn't have to wait too long and didn't think that I wasn't going to answer you. I don't think I could stop, even if you wanted me to.

You said that if I want to understand, then you would try to explain what it feels like to live at night. I would really like to understand.'

_A person is most authentic in their personal space. Even you._

He stared at the many words and smiled, surprised that he had already written so much even though there were no questions to answer. His fingers were quick to unwrap the letter and allow his eyes to travel from line to line. The excited shaking of his fingers was barely noticeable as he swallowed up every single word, learning more and more about the person behind the wall without ever having seen their face.

_Would he still want to talk to you if he knew you in person?_

He couldn't answer that question for himself and maybe that was the magic of it, the longing but also fear he had read in that poem Hoseok wrote about a special person to him. A person that wasn't Hyungwon.

_You also have a special person like that, the man behind the wall._

'You always say that I make you feel a special kind of way. But what does that even mean? Is it a way to say that it's a feeling you cannot explain or describe? Does special mean that it's positive, but none of the feelings that already have a word? I'm curious because I enjoy the way you and your letters make me feel, but I doubt that I could really explain it. A warmth in the pit of my stomach, a tingling in my lips when you write about them.

You wonder what my lips feel like? I think they are soft and get swollen easily. In the early morning I look like my face consists of lips only, very plump. My grandma always says that my lips are like her sofa cushion, round and soft. What are your lips like? I see part of their form on the mark you left on the paper for me and I already counted the lines I could see. There's 27 and I love both the numbers two and seven, so your lips must be wonderful. I also kissed the mark a lot, so much that I taste a bit of cherry.

You wrote that you're naked, but you probably aren't anymore. Otherwise we would have something in common right now. I prefer being naked, then there is nothing brushing over my skin or rubbing it uncomfortably. It feels freeing like this and I'm sure that your body also enjoyed the fresh air, even if it wasn't for long.

I don't joke! I experienced my first kiss today, even if it feels a little bit like a dream now. Maybe I feel that way because it was so intense for me, like my thoughts and mind stop working and only perceive. You asked if the person let me lose myself, but they kind of stopped suddenly, so I guess the answer to that is negative. I really wanted to lose myself, but there were constant words or breaks and I'm not even sure I heard any of them. I just wanted to kiss so badly. Is that greedy?'

He paused writing as he kept reading and his eyes widened a little at the detailed description, the words that were used to describe a feeling he lost himself in so easily. The lamp felt wrong for the intimacy that was put into the few sentences and he turned it off, holding his breath as he read on. Warmth spread through his body as he imagined it, picturing that familiar hand taking his as an arm wrapped around his waist and he was pulled flush against a firm body. He wanted it so much, every inch of contact and the heat he knew it was going to emit. He was always so sensitive, but why did the thought of arms around him and lips carefully kissing his own take his breath away?

'I want you to,' he wrote and inhaled sharply to calm the developing heat enough to continue. 'I want you to kiss me so badly. I'm holding my breath, but it isn't enough to calm my heartbeat or the desire to kiss you that your words pulled out of me. How do you do that? When I read I often feel nothing, but when it's your words then-'

He didn't know the right word for the heat and the breathlessness, the dry lips and the urge to just walk out of his apartment, ring a bell and attach his mouth to the mouth hiding behind the sweet scent of lip balm.

'Then I burn.'

He imagined it, tiny flames that started in the middle of his body and spread along with his blood. It almost seemed like he could hear it flow, but after blinking twice he realised that it was water in the pipes above his desk.

'I want to stand up and walk through that wall towards you, to the place where you are currently taking a shower. I can hear it, the water dripping. What are you thinking about? Is it one of those showers when your thoughts are washed away? Can a kiss do that too? A kiss and water running down your body. It must be nice, two sensations at once and no space left for thoughts.

Please never stop being honest with me. Deception is what scares me a lot because I'm not good at detecting it. Humans lie so much, and I can never tell. It feels safe to have somebody who tells me the truth, even if it's just through a letter. You said that you would want to be my friend, but can friends kiss? Because I would be lying if I claimed that I didn't want to.

I want you to kiss and touch me until I cannot think anymore.'

He stared at the last sentence and swallowed, realising how much he meant it, fingers shaking and messing up the letters. One didn't need to read the words to see how he felt, how his handwriting had changed along with the temperature of his skin and the arousal developing in his groin.

'P.S. If you want to lend me your voice, you can anytime. I am always listening, H.'

When he folded the letter and finally stood up to carry it past his door and to the one next to it, his legs felt like jelly. He couldn't tell how long he had sat at his desk, but time couldn't be the only reason for stumbling and feeling breathless.

His hand pushed the letter under the familiar door and he missed the delicate fingers brushing over his own, wondering how easy it was to miss something after experiencing it once.

Usually he was fast, immediately returning to his apartment as soon as the letter was placed where it belonged. But this time, he remained crouching right there, in front of the wooden door with the way too big space below it while listening to the sound of the pipes. He knew that humans felt strangely outraged by the nakedness of another person, but there was rarely anybody in the stairway and inexplicably he wanted to stay there a little longer.

_But you have a different place to feel closer to him._

He did, the place where he could hear the most. The shower, the bed, the writing on paper at what must have been a desk. But still he remained right there at the door, holding his hand under the space below the door and thinking about the only place where they had been able to be close before, a brief touch of warm fingers against his own.

Suddenly, he heard naked feet on wood, slowly walking towards him. When they stopped, a warm hand brushed over his briefly, just like last time and that could’ve been it, but then, he felt warm fingertips stroke over his own, slowly and gently. “So warm,” the quiet low voice sounded from behind the door, way clearer than what he had heard listening with his ear pressed against the wall.

Goosebumps started out from his hand and travelled all the way along his arm, covering his face and chest too as he gasped softly, eyes wide and unsure what to do. He didn’t want the touch to stop, even though it was only fingers against his own and he wished to hear that voice again, no matter what words it spoke.

The seconds ticked by, maybe even minutes as he focused on the sensation, a thumb stroking down his index finger and back up. His mouth felt dry and he quickly licked his lips to return the moisture as his knees brushed over the floor and reminded him of the slight bruises he had developed earlier in the day without realizing.

_But when you kiss, you feel nothing but lips._

“Kiss me,” he whispered and held his breath, hand shaking visibly even though there was another one holding onto it.

“I want to,” the attractive voice vibrated, and he could almost feel it against his skin. “It’s deep night over here. Would you... like to see me in my darkness?”

It wasn’t like a letter, a piece of paper with words on it that he could respond to as soon as he felt able to, that he could reply to when the right words came to his mind. This was real, him sitting on the floor in front of a door while the person he was yearning to kiss invited him inside, asking him to come in and be kissed. There were so many things he could do wrong, so many wrong words he could say without thinking, situations he could misunderstand. But-

_But you want to, and he wants you to._

The man behind the door spoke of darkness, of showing it to him and letting him experience what he had been trying to understand all this time. It was the darkness he loved because it felt safe, the darkness that took his vision and only left his other senses without overwhelming him.

_Is this the fear from the poem? Longing, but afraid of breaking what you have?_

“I know that you don’t like talking. Don’t. I just can't think of anything else but your lips,” the man behind the door breathed out before letting go of his fingers.

He panicked, scared that the moment was broken and reached out, wrapping his finger around an index finger that he was able to grasp and held onto tightly.

“Kiss me,” he repeated, hoping that it was answer enough, that it told the man behind the door that he wanted to be kissed in the dark, without words and without the possibility of saying the wrong thing.

“I’ll open the door now. It’s really dark,” the low voice whispered, and the finger slipped out of his grip, before the person behind the door pulled back the lock and pushed the handle.

Maybe he should have moved, but he was too excited to do so, body remaining just where it was with his knees on the floor and his head tilted upwards to observe how the shadows moved in the dark. The door to his apartment was still open, but he didn’t have the capacity to think about that now, not when the shadows moved, and he was about to get kissed.

When the door was open, and he couldn’t see anything but a vague outline, he was still waiting, inhaling deeply and holding the air for as long as he was able to before exhaling roughly.

_You must move, he expects you to move, doesn’t he?_

He heard a step forward, felt a warm hand wrap around his shoulder and stroke down his arm until their fingers touched just the way they had a few seconds ago. The person that he had wanted to kiss used the grip to pull him to his feet and past the doorstep easily. It was dark, way darker than the staircase had been, but he could feel the warmth of skin when fingers brushed over his shoulder, when an arm curled around his waist and slowly pulled him closer, just as it was described in the letter.

He could barely breathe from the excitement that bubbled up within him, the anticipation to finally have lips against his own. The last time he had been kissed felt so long ago now, like a dream of his instead of a real experience. The warmth surrounding him, pulling him closer, felt so much more real right now. His imagination hadn't done it justice even though he had given into it, felt breathless and aroused because of it.

Still, it wasn't comparable to how he felt right then, as the hair on his nape rose and a low gasp left his lips. His mouth was parted in anticipation, greedily sucking in oxygen for as long as he was able to.

The darkness was complete, not even allowing him to recognise shadows anymore. His vision was obsolete, and he enjoyed it so much, focusing all his attention on his remaining senses. It smelled sweet, like cherries and he contained the urge to lean in and lick over a patch of skin to find out if it tasted as delicious as it smelled.

The chest that he was pulled against was firm and slightly wet, drops moving along with his fingers as he stroked over it on his way to wrap his arms around the equally firm neck. The man in front of him seemed to have a muscular body, much more so than he did and that enabled him to disappear in the embrace, let himself be engulfed by warm skin.

"My imagination could've never come up with this," the low voice vibrated against his ear before the person leaned back and he felt each exhale hitting his lips. They must be so close, only a breath away from tasting each other's lips, but time kept passing with his loud heartbeat and anticipation about what was about to come. Just when it felt like he couldn't take it anymore, the other man's breaths got quicker, closer, and he was pulled flush against the warm, muscular body, enveloped by those soft lips that caught his and set him ablaze.

If someone had asked him to describe the way it felt, he wouldn't have been able to. The yearning was similar, the need to have lips against his and feel them move. The heat in the centre of his body increased too, reminding him of its presence as he felt more naked skin against his own, thighs brushing against each other and feeling so much more intense than with the presence of clothing.

The touch of lips was breath-taking and just as he had hoped it limited his senses to the softness of the other man's mouth, to the hands holding him close and to the irregular breaths that mixed with his own whenever both exhaled.

_You want to drown in it so badly._

He kissed back, parting his lips and attempting to taste more of the soft mouth, of the familiar taste of honey that mixed with sweet cherry and made him want to have it all.

Soft, delicate fingers stroked over his lower back hesitantly as the delicious lips played with his, sucked on them and kept him so close to the warm body that he could've tapped the other man's loud heartbeat with his fingers that sunk into the wet hair.

_This is so much more intimate, why?_

He still felt the urgency to throw himself at the man in his arms, to wrap around him and feel nothing but his naked body and his lips. He still wanted to deepen the kiss and lick into the hot mouth, but somehow the moment felt vulnerable, breakable even and he held it with both of his hands to keep it safe, to stretch it as much as he could. For so long that the scent of cherries and the feel of wet skin would prolong ingrained in his memories.

_The sandcastle that could break._

He tugged at the wet hair and couldn't resist anymore, pressing his whole body against the other man without waiting for him to pull him even closer. There was a bit of fabric against his thigh, probably trunks and he tried to fit snugly against it, so close that there was no part of his body that didn't have hot skin or fabric touching it.

Warm fingers stopped a bit over his butt and there was a low, breathy gasp then a quiet curse, before those lips returned to his and a hot tongue traced the shape of his upper lip before licking into his mouth. This was the moment his resolve and hesitation broke as the electrifying sensation that shot right through his body was too good to resist. He moaned softly and wrapped his arms tightly around the firm neck to hold it in place before deepening the kiss as much as he was able to. He captured every gasp and exhale, licked into the delicious mouth and played with the other man's warm tongue once he tasted it too. His thigh felt lonely against the fabric, so he lifted it just enough to rest on the other man's hip bone, attempting to attach himself but being unable to because he didn't know how.

The person in his arms was so warm. Everything was warm about him, his skin, his mouth, the tone of his voice and how he hummed into their kisses, hesitating at first but then slowly stroking from his lower back, over his hips and thigh, not quite wrapping around it as his hands were rather delicate in comparison to his own.

"I feel greedy." Suddenly there were words that vibrated against his lips. "I just wanted a kiss but now I want everything."

He gasped for air since the words interrupted their kiss and he realised that he could barely breathe. The words registered only slowly, turning into pictures before finally transforming into actions and what they might mean. The man holding him must have felt similarly impatient to be even closer and instead of pushing him away and asking him what he wanted, he told him his own desires.

The darkness was still absolute, so opening his eyes was pointless, a sense that wasn't needed in the space between them. He explored with his hands and lips instead, kissing the first patch of skin his lips were able to find while his hands ran over the muscular and still slightly wet body to the jawline. He enjoyed the feel of it, so he kissed every spot that his fingers touched, imagining himself filling a blank space of a person with each kiss that he covered their skin with. It seemed like touching every inch was going to make it real, turn it into a vivid image in his mind along with the scent, taste and feel.

When those hot lips didn't find his quickly enough, he slipped out of the embrace and to the floor, hands tracing a calf and thigh before placing a kiss on it and making his way up. He kissed a knee, then the area around it, the warm skin of a thigh, the beginning of trunks, but he pushed them aside just enough to kiss more skin. He wanted to cover every inch and make it real.

The other man's fingers found his head, stroking over his hair and he heard those quick, rough breaths so well in the darkness, the breathy inhales and the soft, low moan that he managed to pull from those lips.

_Does he like that?_

The thought was sudden, unexpected, because he had been so focused on capturing every inch of skin with his lips. The low sound that was added to his perceptions seemed to travel straight to his groin and he held his breath for a few seconds before exhaling roughly and resuming his ministrations. This time he listened, unwilling to miss a single breath as he licked a line from the other man's knee all the way up to his thigh. He had seen it before, the things that lips and a tongue could do. He closed his own around a warm patch of skin and sucked on it, enjoying the strong scent of cherry in his nose.

Another moan followed, and the delicate fingers raked through his hair, muscles flexing under his fingertips and even though he couldn't see, his hands could remember it so well, each dip and curve.

His lips tingled, and he missed the loss of awareness, the way he had been drowning only moments ago. Touching the skin in front of him and covering it with kisses filled out his senses, made him perceive so much, the scent, the taste and the texture of skin. Keeping his fingers on the muscular thighs, he stood up and let his hands travel with him, all the way to a sharp jawline and soft cheeks.

"Would you like it, if I touched you?" He was pulled closer by the grip on his waist, feeling the other man's arousal against his own groin.

He heard the words, but the meaning seemed to remain in a space he couldn't access, floating around them while he tried to bury it along with his other thoughts. It was about touching, and he knew that he wanted to touch, so badly. His body burned and instead of replying, he simply acted, holding onto the broad neck and lifting himself up just enough to wrap his legs around the other man's hips. It felt warm and he smiled before searching for those delicious lips and covering them with his own.

When there was almost no air left between them, there was a short break and a low chuckle. It must've been the real version of what he had heard through the wall before.

_It sounds so beautiful._

"You said 'kiss me'. I guess I haven’t been listening," the pleasant voice whispered against his lips before he was kissed again and again and again, each touch and exhale setting him ablaze like a candle.

Time lost its meaning along with daylight and the need to see, but he didn't miss any of them. Only when both ran out of air and needed to separate, warm exhales tickling his lips, only then there was enough awareness for a single thought.

_Please don't let him see that I'm not human._

***

_Run_

_Run_

_Until you run faster_

_than the pain_

_approaching._

He missed the rain.

The full drops that he felt on his head and body offered comfort, but it simply wasn’t the same compared to the darkness of night and the sky crying on him. The energy was different, and his thoughts were washed away so much faster, only leaving the moist inhales, water and nothing. It was better, but it wasn’t raining. It was a warm summer night and even the complete darkness he had covered his room in, covered himself in, didn’t provide as much comfort as he hoped, leaving him in the most crippling loneliness.

_Maybe it’s time to leave?_

His suitcase still lay on the floor next to the couch, ready to be packed up and roll over the dirty streets of Paris, deafening noise of the wheels announcing the departure to a new place, a new time, a new attempt to get rid of the pressure in his temples, the pulling in his chest and the lack of coping strategies other people used to deal with emotional pain. Strategies that he was never able to access.

He turned off the tap, accompanying the lack of water with a deep sigh as he stepped out of the shower and dried himself briefly, leaving some drops on his body to redirect his attention to anything, besides his thoughts.

Just when he put on a pair of fresh underwear and walked back into the living room, he saw a white piece of paper, a light spot that shouldn’t have been there in the darkness, covering a small piece of the wooden floor. His heart was beating so fast when he crouched in front of the door to pick up the words that he knew would soothe his pain, would make him smile and fuel his longing even more, but then… then he felt those fingers. The hand that remained in place, as if waiting for his touch, for him to show that he was here, that he cared, that he too, was waiting for every single time he heard those feet and stayed in front of his door, waiting for the brief touch of those warm hands and paper.

Time stopped, resuming in a different pace he couldn’t access anymore, stretching when the low voice behind the door whispered, ‘kiss me’. He wished his body to be fluid, to simply permeate through the door, wrap around the person that was waiting in front of it and holding onto his finger like he was a solution to his problems, a solution to anything. How amazing would it have been if he didn’t have to stand up and open the door, knowing that he could break something, break the only thing that has been giving him genuine happiness over the past weeks, but he couldn’t help it.

His poem repeated inside his head, asking whether it would be fine to lose the feeling of those warm hands and words for a single kiss. But maybe they didn’t have to risk it. It was so dark that he thought, maybe he could keep their sand castle, not knowing how it looked and only carefully touching it with his fingertips.

A mixture of emotions so strong that they threatened to choke him and the burning when he felt another body against his own were so overwhelming that he gasped. There was so much skin, smooth, warm skin was everywhere around him, enveloping him and making him want to moan from the sensation alone. He was hesitant at first because there were so many things that he knew about. The knowledge made it risky and threatening.

His neighbour didn’t like talking and he didn’t like too many sensations either, he didn’t like random touching, but for him, kissing the delicious mouth, drowning in the burning that spread from his lips throughout his body, he couldn’t help but touch the warm back, stroke over it, lower and lower. He gasped, figuring out that the person in his arms was completely undressed, bare in front of him. It was so easy to make a mistake. To break it all when it was so fragile.

After suggesting something that he shouldn't have mentioned in the first place, he figured that he must've made a mistake, stabbed a thin knife into the castle and even though it looked fine, the damage was done.

He should've known as there had been no feedback that would've assured him that it was okay to continue, but the lack of reaction made his sanity return back to where it belonged and he wrapped his arms around the slim waist, kissing those full lips one last time, tasting them just for a few seconds before he let go and grabbed the door handle. It physically hurt but the person behind the wall asked to be kissed. Nothing more and nothing less, so it had to end here no matter how much he wanted more. How much he longed for more.

"I hope that qualified as a kiss." He stepped forward before letting the other man's feet touch the cold floor of the staircase. It seemed as if he was a bit taller than him. Taller and slimmer and everything that he longed for right at that moment. "Sleep well, my special person," he whispered, touching the warm hand one last time before walking back into his apartment and putting a wooden wall between them, separating them as if nothing had happened. He didn’t think that he could do it, but maybe it was okay to build a wall to keep something that was more important than seeing a face and perceiving the warmth of a body against his own.

The letter lay on the floor next to his feet and he felt the need to turn on the light, to escape the thoughts of what had just happened because he feared the consequences, of the change that the feeling of his lips and hands might have inflicted on the beautiful sand castle that he cherished so much.

Could he still write back? Would the person behind the wall, the person who had such an attractive voice, smooth skin and full lips, answer him? Would he want to read those words Hoseok tried to put on paper? He was scared that something was broken, scared that he didn’t know what it was or how to fix it, but he still couldn’t help turning on his table lamp and drowning in those words written on a white piece of paper. Words that seemed to be a relic from the past, from when he didn’t know the way those lips felt against his own.

_In eternal darkness_

_in eternal silence,_

_there is nothing better_

_than the sound of your voice_

_asking to be kissed._

‘You tried out the night for me. How it feels to be surrounded by darkness and taste it with your whole being. You're the only person who has ever done something like that for me.

You make me feel a special kind of way. For me, it means that it’s a lot and I don’t want to name it because it makes me confused and a little bit scared. Special means that I closed that door hating my own hands, solid surfaces and everything that prevented me from having more of you.

You touched my lips, but you couldn’t see them, so let me still explain it. They are usual I would say, apart from maybe my mouth corners. They are curved upwards, so I often look as if I’m smiling even though I’m not.’

Reading about how the person behind the wall preferred to be naked made him feel hot, as his hands could remember so well how the warm, uncovered skin felt against his fingertips. How vulnerable he must’ve felt coming in front of his door barefoot, without a single piece of fabric.

‘I was a bit shocked that you weren’t wearing anything, but in a good way and because I felt like I needed to protect you. Mostly from myself, I guess. How do you feel about having your second kiss today too? It’s not as special as the first one, but it did feel special to me. You feel special to me. Did you want to kiss me because of what I wrote? You might be disappointed because the reality is always blander than what words can create. I’m sorry if you are.

You asked what I was thinking when I was showering… I thought about ways to stop feeling pain, to find a way to cope with being hurt and I wished for rain because standing under pouring rain, especially if it rains at night, is the most effective way to get rid of uncomfortable thoughts for me. The drops from the sky are special like that. I also thought about my suitcase. I haven’t unpacked it because it means that I could leave anytime, go somewhere else and maybe feel different, it’s lying in the middle of the apartment and reminds me that there is always a way out of anything. I’m not sure that it makes sense to you. There is a lot that you know about me and a lot that you don’t, so sometimes it might seem so out of place, disconnected from the words I usually use when I talk to you like this. I’m trying to be as honest as possible with you.

Do you feel lonely?

P.S. Kissing you was like pouring rain at 4 a.m. and I am scared that something changed, and you won’t reply anymore, but I will continue writing until I close that suitcase of mine. H.’

He exhaled and folded the letter, quickly leaving his apartment and simply pushing the folded paper under the door without waiting for a touch of those warm hands because he didn’t know if it was going to be there but was too scared to find out.

***

Heat, a burning mouth against his, the lack of thoughts inside his head, nothing but the things he was hearing, smelling and feeling. The mixture had been perfect, taking his breath away and making him want to attach himself to both, the darkness and the man hidden within it.

One moment there were countless kisses and hands pulling him close, but the next he heard steps, saw a silhouette and then nothing. Nothing but the wooden door he had walked through as if it had been wonderland.

_But you're not dreaming, are you?_

The door looked so cold suddenly, not like the happy place he kept writing his thoughts to, not like the place where a warm hand tightly held his as if it was just as scared of letting go.

_Would he hold it now?_

He still stood right where the man behind the door left him, on the wooden boards in front of his apartment door and suddenly feeling cold without hot kisses or clothes to keep him warm. He examined what he could see in the dark, the shadows that danced over the door, the silence behind it until there was a sound that resembled steps.

He crouched, fingers dancing along the edge of the door as he wondered whether he should stick his fingers through, hoping for at least a second of contact to convince himself that he hadn't ruined it.

_But you did. You must have done something for him to stop._

As usual he didn't know what it was, what had caused the man behind the wall to stop kissing him and close a door in his face.

_Were you too much? Did you say the wrong thing by remaining quiet?_

His fingers remained at the edge and he fought with himself to push them through, to hope for a bit of a touch. Just when he was about to close his eyes and try, he could hear steps moving away from the door, disappearing in the depths of the apartment.

_He left._

He swallowed, attempting to suppress the urge to lie down and curl up right where he was, naked and in the hallway. Enough years had passed for him to know that humans didn't do that, that humans were upset on their own, in their own rooms while showing tears or calling friends. Friends that he didn't have.

His feet felt like jelly when he tried to make them carry his weight and walk back to his door. Dizziness was returning, but this time it felt different from the one he experienced after work. After work the cause was exhaustion, this time it must be disappointment, disappointment in himself.

_Hoseok called this feeling a sandcastle and you went ahead and broke it. Two times in one day._

The first kiss had ended because he couldn't answer a question and the second kiss ended because he hadn't answered at all. What was the right reply? How was he supposed to know?

He sobbed, sound a little too loud to his ears. Holding his breath, he forced himself to walk through his apartment door and close it, furiously imagining that everything was fine and the man behind the wall was just busy or suddenly didn't feel too well or didn't want to kiss him too much so there was still some excitement for later.

For later because there was going to be a later.

_Right?_

Again, he sobbed, but this time into his palms as his feet carried him to his bedroom until his body was able to fall on top of the bed like a stone. The blanket felt and smelled familiar and he tried to bury his nose in it and pretend that he hadn't left it in the first place, that everything had been inside his head and in a few minutes, he was going to get a reply to his letter. The letter that described how much he wanted to kiss the other man, to feel weightless again the way he had after his first kiss.

_You still do, you still want to kiss him._

Another sob escaped him, and he covered his lips with both of his palms, blinking in the dark and trying to focus on anything but his own thoughts. Was this one of those moments that his neighbour took a shower, attempting to wash away his thoughts?

He wanted to try it, to let the water wash away his sadness, but suddenly he heard how a chair was pulled back behind the wall and a ball pen was clicked to begin writing.

_An answer, it must be an answer._

The urge to sob was gone in an instant and he pressed himself to the wall, listening to the repeated scratching of a pen on paper, a pen that might be about to give him the answers he wanted so badly. He wanted to understand so badly.

_Maybe you need to tell him. Tell him that you're not human._

A shudder passed through him at the thought, remembering the reaction he had received before. Humans never believed him, no matter what he said. Looking human meant being human, so he had to continue living with his broken leg that nobody was able to see, unable to explain it because to humans it just wasn't there.

He closed his eyes and only focused on the sound of a pen, on the repeated noise that calmed him down and made him forget himself, his sadness and the numbers on his alarm clock. When the scratching suddenly stopped, and he heard a chair being pushed back again, he startled and held his breath, listening intently where those steps were taking the other man.

_To you, he's coming to give you the letter._

His excitement was difficult to contain, enough to shake his hands twice, quickly to get rid of the unnecessary energy he felt. Without moving it would have driven him mad, like electricity that passed through his limbs without a way out.

As soon as he saw a hint of white paper being pushed through the door, he ran and grabbed it, opening the letter on his way to the bed and already reading even before he settled down on top of his blanket.

He read each line twice, looking for an explanation within the words, for a reason for the other man to stop and shut him out, but he couldn't find it.

_Why does special mean that you have to stop? Shouldn't it mean that you want more?_

He jumped off the bed to sit down at his desk and answer as he read, convinced that he wouldn't be able to ask for an explanation otherwise.

_If he rejects you later in the letter, you won't be able to write anything at all._

'Why did you have to stop?' he wrote first thing and had to swallow down the wave of anger that instantly returned, mind still too sensitive to the image of a door shutting right in front of him.

'I just don't understand, because I was feeling so much, and I thought you were too. You say that you didn't want to because the feeling is special, but if you don't want to, then why did you? Shouldn't it be the opposite, like wanting to attach yourself and never let go? That is how I feel. If I could wrap myself around your body and become you somehow, then I would gladly do it. There is just so much feeling in me and it must get out somehow and I don't know how else to let it escape than by wrapping myself around you and kissing you.

I made a mistake, didn't I? I always do. That's why humans usually don't like me or don't understand why I do things or what I mean. I kissed you because I wanted to, so how can you stop kissing me even though you don't want to stop?'

He stopped writing, feeling the pain in his wrist and a parallel pain in his chest. What if complaining was only going to make it worse? What if the man behind the wall couldn't understand either, because he was still human, even if he had listened all this time?

'You said that it looks like you are smiling even though you're not. Does that mean that you get misunderstood often, feeling sad but nobody can tell? I think that is the loneliest, because talking is difficult to me, so if I cannot say what's wrong with me, then it's just me inside my own bubble of sadness. Do you feel that way too?'

As he read on, he couldn't help his surprise. How was the other man able to assume that he might not have enjoyed the kiss? Or that it wasn't as good as the written description?

_Did you not show it? How, if you were burning so much you couldn't keep still?_

'You think I might be disappointed in the kiss? But why if the only thing I am disappointed in is that it ended? I didn't want it to end and even though your words are the only ones that help me imagine, they cannot compare to the way the real touch made me feel. Even now I think about the way you tasted like honey and filled my nose with the scent of sweet cherries. Are kisses always like this or is it just you? I do not know, because I haven't had many yet, but still it felt special to me too.

Were you afraid to break what's between us? I thought about that when you asked me to come in. I thought about me breaking everything the way I usually do, and it scared me. But then I wanted to kiss you so badly, to forget about everything but the way you feel, taste and smell. I find that addicting about kissing, but I guess since you were able to put me in front of your door it wasn't quite the same for you. I forget where my limbs are, don't you?'

_You're writing so much._

Chewing on his cheek, he wondered why he was pouring out his thoughts this way. Was he hoping to save something? To still be able to read letters and maybe even kiss that mouth again?

Somehow the thought felt strange and new to him. He knew the person he was supposed to be with and he had even been kissed, but still he didn't want to lose the letters and the possibility of being close the way he had before, to have lips against his in the dark and know that it was a person that understood him, a person that knew more about him than anybody else.

Maybe it was wrong to feel that way towards a human, but he wasn't one, so he couldn't understand or start feeling differently. That was just how he felt.

His eyes continued reading, passing over a long passage of feelings the other man hadn't talked about yet, feelings of hurt and loneliness.

_He could leave any second, close his suitcase and leave._

The thought was so terrible to him that he wrote it down. 'Don't close your suitcase.' Four simple words until he was able to think further.

'I'm sorry that you are hurt and cannot find a way to make it stop. They forecast rain tonight, so maybe you will be able to feel it run down your face and make you forget about everything. When you wrote that the only thing stopping you from leaving is your suitcase I got so scared. You are one of the people that matter to me and having you disappear suddenly without knowing anything, but your apartment number is so terrifying. Can't I help you take the hurt away, so you can stay? Here, with me.

You asked whether I am lonely. I was, I was so so lonely until you decided to eat cereal in the middle of the night. Thank you for that.

P.S. Then let me be your rain. I want to be, H.'

He released a breath he hadn't been aware of holding and folded the letter. This time he wasn't fast as he made his way towards the other apartment and stuck his note under it. He waited, feeling that there was no carpet in front of the door for the other man and only wood, just like the door itself.

He kept waiting, but nothing happened, nothing but the constant rattling above him that distracted him from his thoughts.

_Rain, it's raining._

His eyes widened, and it didn't even take longer than a few seconds for him to get up and hurry back to his apartment. The thoughts on his mind were difficult to describe, but they kept circling around the same idea.

_You'll be able to understand how he feels._

A pair of pants was pulled over his long legs and he added a plain t-shirt, nice and wide, so that he didn't have to feel much of the fabric. It was probably going to be uncomfortable as soon as it got wet, but he didn't think about that yet. For now, he only thought about going out into the rain and understanding what it feels like.

When his feet entered the grassy area right next to the apartment complex, he didn't quite know what to do with himself. Heavy drops were falling from the sky and running down his cheek, weighing down his shoulders and adding a loud noise inside his head. He tried to focus on it,

_Drip, drop, drip, drop._

His steps matched the sounds and he smiled, walking along an empty street in the middle of the night and feeling like he wasn't alone.

Because he knew that right this instant there was somebody he cares about doing the same.

***

His neighbour had wished him the rain, thick drops that fell on his head and tried to drain his thoughts, but there was only the low voice inside his head and the person who spoke in that low, breathy way that held on tightly, unwilling to leave his mind no matter how soaked he was and how many minutes the rain poured on him.

_Do you like pain?_

_those marks won't leave_

_with rain_

_when you engraved them_

_deep enough_

_to rip your flesh_

_erasing them._

When he came back, drops hitting the wooden floors and dripping on a folded letter, he carefully picked it up and placed it on his table, wondering about what kind of words it might contain. He took his time getting undressed, drying his body and hair and taking the letter and his notebook along into his bed that screeched as he lay on the warm blanket, unfolding the paper and immediately starting his reply because he wanted to keep being honest with the person he had never seen, but was attracted to, attached to, used to. Yet another person asking him not to leave.

'I was outside just now, it was raining, and I stood there thinking about you and even though rain in the middle of the night is most effective at cleaning my head out, all I could think about was you. Isn't it interesting?

You think that I didn't want it or that I didn't feel the same, but that's not true. I wanted it, I wanted it so much that I wanted more than you mentioned you wanted, so I preferred to end it instead of saying or doing something you didn't want. You said you don't like touching, but I touched your back, I lifted you and stroked over your head, I talked to you even though you don't like talking. I wanted you, I wanted you even though I can't really imagine you, but my fingertips know so well how you feel and how you make me feel. I'm breathless thinking about the way you taste. I'm lost. I'm sorry.

You didn't break anything, and you didn't make a single mistake. You were you and I enjoyed it so much that now it hurts thinking that you felt that way because of me. I was too scared to make a mistake. That's why I stopped. I know exactly where my limbs are and what they are doing, and I knew what I wanted very well, it was all on my mind and I made the decision that it would be best to put the door between us. I know that it's best because I still want it. I still want you. Does it make sense?

I look like I'm smiling even though I'm not, it's straining but I guess the most painful experience is being able to see that people aren't interested in how you feel. That they choose to ignore it to feel better, but I see it and it hurts. I sometimes wish I was oblivious, but what you explained seems like it's painful either way. I'm so sorry that you feel like this and I will try to understand you. I want to so badly. You keep doing everything to understand me and there's nothing I've done for you.

About my suitcase… I'm sorry that it scared you. I've never lived at one place for too long and the last time that I stayed anywhere longer than a few months was just recently, but my life turned so drastically that I ended up alone entirely, here, next to you eating cereal and preventing you from sleeping on a regular basis. If I feel like I’m falling apart into fragments of words, the suitcase seems to comfort me with the promise that this time, I might run fast enough that the pain won't catch up with me. I keep wondering whether I will ever be able to.

The person I was with asked me the same thing you did in your letter. She asked me to stay and feel better with her, to unpack my suitcase. She also asked me to leave and that brought me here, so maybe I should be thankful, who knows?

P.S. You said humans don't like you. Maybe I'm not human after all. H.'

He kissed the letter and held it against his chest for a few seconds, until he thought it might have soaked up the scent of his moist skin. Grabbing a bathrobe and pulling it over his wet shoulders, he walked out and slipped his thoughts into the space that harboured the one person he wanted to kiss.

Could he really close the suitcase and leave when he was feeling like this?

_

He opened his eyes to pouring rain, glancing towards the space next to the apartment door. His stomach pulled together at the thoughts that followed seeing the empty space, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't force a reply and he couldn't wait in front of the door until a white paper appeared, saving him. His head hurt from the obvious lack of sleep, so he dressed and decided to go for a run, without music, without equipment, just running under pouring rain and trying to feel better.

His feet were fast, and he couldn't see well, but the feeling was nice. His attention was pulled away towards the streams that poured down his face, making it hard to see, towards the drops that hit his thighs, his soaked shoes, the mixture of rain and sweat that made him feel as if he was one with the water that poured down on him.

There had been no answer to his letter and maybe he was too honest this time, freaking out the person behind the wall and making him regret what happened. Or maybe it was his mind, asking and waiting for more because he couldn't bear being without it. Without those written words and now also without those lips and low voice.

When he waited for the traffic light to turn green, soaked and wiping his eyes to see better, his gaze fell on a tall figure leaning against the opposite traffic light with a heavy bag of groceries. The man seemed familiar, equally soaked in the rain with black strands plastered to his face and head tilted back as if he was observing something in the grey sky. As soon as his eyes travelled over the plump lips and the smooth jaw, he recognised him. The recognition was followed by a short moment of awe at the sight in front of him.

The light turned green, but Hyungwon still stood there, leaning against the traffic light and looking at the grey sky that only had drops for him. He jogged towards the tall man and stopped right in front of him. "It will rain into your eyes," he said, smiling briefly. "It sounds poetic, but it kind of hurts."

The jerk that followed was rough, as if he had just screamed into the other man's ear to get his attention instead of a simple comment. Hyungwon turned towards him with wide eyes and roamed his face for several long seconds until recognition followed.

"I- w-what?" the other man stuttered and almost dropped his bag.

Thankfully he was fast enough to grab the handle and carefully slip it back over the other man's soaked shoulder. It was heavy and must've left a mark, but he did the same when going shopping, buying everything and carrying it home all at once to avoid going out more than necessary.

"I said that it hurts if the drops hit your open eyes, so you shouldn't be looking up when it rains. You don't have an umbrella?" he asked, which was a bit funny because he was the one who was completely soaked and dripping.

"Umbrella? No… no, the rain washes away thoughts, you know. I wanted to see how it does that," Hyungwon murmured and lifted the bag from his shoulder briefly to let it cut into a different bit of his skin. He seemed distracted as he immediately glanced up at the sky again, avoiding his direct gaze.

He kept his gaze on Hyungwon and thought about the words that could've been his own, observing the small face and how the drops travelled down the puffy cheeks. The person in front of him didn't look as if he had slept, but he himself probably didn't look like it either.

"They do," he murmured, leaning against the traffic light. "The drops take the thoughts along and they do it best if it's pouring rain, like now. Do you like rain too? I didn't think I would ever meet you on the street like this, in the rain, but maybe it's more likely to meet you on the street than at my own wedding."

A hum followed, but he wasn't sure if Hyungwon was aware of what he was saying. The expression on his face was lost to the rain, as if he was fascinated by the grey nothingness he could see. "Those events are equally likely because I would look for you, no matter where you are."

_Huh?_

Swallowing, he jumped on the spot a few times to get rid of excess energy and preferably to reach enlightenment about what the other man was talking about.

"That- sounds a tiny bit creepy. Why would you have looked for me? We don’t even know each other. To make sure that I stay alone? Did you feel responsible for establishing balance in the universe?" It sounded bitter, but he felt like saying it because he had been thinking it and thinking thoughts like those all by himself made them sound so much worse.

"I always thought I am alone for the balance of the universe. Do you feel that way too?" There was surprise on the small face as it finally turned towards him again instead of the sky. "I would have looked for you, because that's what I'm supposed to do. I'm twenty-five after all."

There were many thoughts inside his head, but most of them only created confusion even though his brain had been working hard. No matter how many seconds passed, he still couldn’t make sense of those words. "Same age as me? I didn't know. But I still don't understand any of your explanations. They are confusing and make no sense. What I know is that you made me miserable but somehow put me in a situation where I found somebody I genuinely like. I'm not sure what to do about it yet, but you brought me pain and you brought me happiness too. Those warm hands." He smiled and looked up with his eyes closed to feel the drops on his face, taking along the bitterness that resurfaced as soon as he thought about what was.

"Warm hands and words," the low voice murmured next to him, but it sounded emotionless and distant. "I… brought you happiness by giving you somebody else? Does that mean I still make you miserable? Me, the way I am."

He turned his head and opened his eyes, trying to catch that gaze that slipped away as soon as his eyes got a glimpse of the black pupil. The thin water film on the soft face caught his attention and he remembered brushing his fingers over the round cheek and maybe a bit of how those lips tasted, but most of his memories were fresh, burned against his mouth and weren't made with the person in front of him. He was okay with that, but there was still something bothering him, a mistake that he couldn't solve, a word that shouldn't have been there and it hung over him like an unresolved issue, asking for final judgment.

_Are you confused because you don't know, or because you don't want to know?_

When he thought about it, there was no resentment, just a distant pulling and a complete lack of understanding. He tried explaining it, tried to put those fragments of thoughts into a sequence of words, but it was hard because it still hurt.

"The way you crushed my relationship and everything I wanted made me miserable. I'm probably stupid for saying that but I'm aware of the fact that a word from you was enough to destroy everything I was hoping for means that I've been the only one feeling that way. You were just there to give the final push. I don't resent you, would I have kissed you if I hated you? But it seems we aren't meant to be either, are we? How can you be with somebody who ruined your future and there's also… " He stopped because there was no point in telling Hyungwon about his feelings towards another person. "Anyways, I'm doing well with the coding, so it won't take long."

Big, round eyes stared at him and at first, he thought the other man hadn't listened, but then there were suddenly arms wrapped around his waist and a grocery bag fell to the ground. A few tomatoes rolled onto the road where one was crushed by a car while fingers dug into the fabric of his soaked shirt. It felt desperate.

"Don't say that." The words were repeated another two times, low and close to his ear. "We are meant to be. You kissed me, and you don't hate me. Kissing makes me feel so much, I just don't know how to express it. Will you leave if you're done with the coding? But I'm twenty-five now."

The rain sounded deafening suddenly, maybe to protect him from the confusion that those words inflicted. Why were they meant to be? It didn't seem like a joke and what was it about his age? How could a person just say those things to somebody they barely knew? Was he not feeling okay like that day he was supposed to work from home? Did he need darkness and silence? There must've been something he still couldn't understand, but he needed to be clear and honest to avoid misunderstandings, so he said the truth.

"I will leave, why would I stay? Maybe I will go somewhere else entirely, but… why does it matter how old you are? You’re not feeling okay, are you? Should I help out?" he asked, trying to peel himself out of the embrace and pointing at the traffic light that turned green for the third time since they started talking.

The other man didn't look at first, merely shook his head until the small face finally lifted from his shoulder and for what felt like the first time met his gaze. There was a hint of hurt in those round eyes, hurt he couldn't place, just like he couldn't understand all the urgency with which the other man held onto him. It seemed as if it really mattered that he stayed even though they barely knew each other, and he had no idea what it meant to stay or what the person in front of him wanted. Still, those fingers held onto him like he was a solution to all his problems. A solution to anything.

The grip around his waist tightened and plump lips pressed into a thin line before finally giving him a reply.

"You promised."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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CHAPTER 6

_“Do you also think I’m strange?”_

_“I think you might be a superhero, but nobody else can see.”_

_

Thick drops fell on his skin, on his face and on the white plastic of his shopping bag that was filled with tomatoes. The drops were entities on their own at first until they came across others and finally created small pools before flowing down on the pavement.

As soon as he had seen the grey clouds and the transparent streaks of water on his window, he had grabbed his key and wallet and ran out without a second thought. He hadn't even needed anything, but it seemed to be a good excuse to be out and about. He enjoyed the water on his face and the sight of the grey sky and basked in an experience that he pictured was shared. Somehow it felt like there might be another person just like him out there, staring at the grey sky and letting the water wash away their thoughts.

_Is he thinking the same way right now?_

The plastic bag was cutting into his shoulder as he stood at the traffic light, probably leaving a red line along with the pain, but the sky was much more interesting. The burning was easy to ignore when there was something so much more beautiful to pay attention to.

_It has so much meaning now. Before it was just the sky._

Was this how humans created meaning? He couldn't really tell, because he wasn't one. He had been taught that words receive their meaning from the humans who use them, so does the rainy sky change because he speaks of it? Does it turn into more than that, into a way to erase thoughts and think of nothing but the sound of rain in his ears?

The sudden sound of a voice startled him, enough to almost drop his groceries and his composure along with it. But it wasn't just anybody. It was Hoseok after all. Hoseok, his saviour, the person that was meant for him. Somebody that he would feel at ease with.

Still, his mind slowed, struggling to register the thoughts as the grey sky kept capturing his attention. It felt like he hadn't seen it all yet, hadn't felt the renewal that he hoped to experience through the rain.

His eyes kept jumping from the sky to the beautiful and familiar face, then back to the sky. Hoseok's words made sense, but somehow, they also didn't quite register. They seemed to be words the other man spoke but shouldn't have spoken.

_Because he speaks of another person as the one who is meant for him._

The words continued, telling him that he had ruined a relationship, that he wasn't hated, but at the same time…

_At the same time, he thinks that you aren't meant for each other._

That single sentence repeated inside his head, faster and faster until the reality of it made him want to erase it, scream louder than the sentence inside his mind. Squeezing his eyes shut, he wrapped his arms around the other man's waist and dropped the bag. He heard it landing on the concrete, but after that there was only static noise inside his head, rustling and thoughts that he spoke out loud.

Hoseok was wrong. They were meant to be, and they even kissed, and he had also said that there was no hatred. All those things and after all he had waited for so long and was twenty-five now.

_He's going to leave._

The next thought caught up with him and kept repeating as if somebody screamed it into his ear with a megaphone. He shook his head furiously and kept holding onto the other man tightly, convinced that he had to hold on for long enough for everything to make sense again.

_He will understand, he must._

His fears only grew, the fear of ending up alone again, without anybody to save him from the feeling. Then there was the fear of having made a mistake again, of being undesirable because he wasn't human. All those fears kept growing until they seemed to take up all the space inside his chest, whispering terrible things on his shoulder and making him squeeze his eyes shut and hold his breath.

Suddenly, there were words again, the man in his arms spoke, telling him that there was nothing holding him back, as if it was decided that he would leave no matter what. No matter how much he was needed and no matter what…

_No matter what he promised._

His eyes watered, and he could barely breathe as he finally dared to look at that beautiful face, that face with soaked black hair framing it and the same round, black eyes. He met them for as long as he was able to, begging his nonhuman self to identify the hint of a lie, a hint of anything that could convince him that Hoseok wasn't going to leave.

"You promised," he whispered, feeling helpless and confused. No matter the words he used, they were going to be the wrong ones.

There was something about Hoseok’s gaze, too intense to meet it for longer than a split second. The lack of understanding what the intensity was about made him uncomfortable, but still he tried. He tried, but the low voice just asked him if he was okay, cold palms cupping his face and covering his ears to reduce sensations as he stared at the thin streams of rain flowing down the pale face.

Those curved lips moved, producing a calming noise that he barely registered due to the lack of sound that permeated through those palms that were pressed tightly against his ears.

He held his breath, listening to what he could hear of pleasant humming that seemed to wrap around him like a cloud, like the blanket he enjoyed cuddling up in at home. There was no need for the static noise, for the silence around him, but somehow, he still accepted it, used it to focus on the person in front of him.

Suddenly, it was so easy to take everything in, to observe the round eyes he remembered from so long ago, the curved lips he had kissed and felt so addicted to.

He couldn't read the expression on the other man's face, he didn't know why Hoseok acted the way he did and why he was so close while holding his ears shut. He didn't know, but the proximity and the warm air that tickled his face along with the vibrations of the hums excited him. He felt the urge to focus his attention even further, to perceive nothing but the man in front of him.

_Maybe this is what he wanted you to do._

He smiled and mirrored the gesture, covering the other man's protruding ears with his big palms. It felt warm despite the water and he observed a single drop as it ran down the straight nose, along the mouth bridge and finally down the top lip. Taking it as a sign, he finally leaned in and captured it with his lips, tasting it until he finally tasted the mixture of honey and something else. The mixture that he now knew as kissing.

Hoseok seemed surprised but kept his palms on his ears, freezing in place and only after a few long seconds one hand left his right ear and wrapped around his waist without pulling him closer. “W-what’s going on?” the low voice breathed out during a short break, but he couldn’t answer, too mesmerized by those black eyes staring at his lips, and the pink tongue licking over the plump, curved ones.

_He's so beautiful._

His chest felt full, but still he wanted to reach out and pull the other man so close to his chest that he became a part of him, making him even fuller than his feelings already did. Even though the words that left the deliciously curved mouth told him that he might have misunderstood, he couldn't pause for long enough to think about it. As soon as there wasn't a warm mouth on top of his, he felt empty and aware of the cold rain.

_It doesn't wash away the thoughts anymore because there is a kiss to take them away._

The hand on his waist was warm too and he pretended that it pulled him in, held him closer as he leaned in by himself to feel the warmth against his chest as well. The sound of rain and cars, voices and a dog barking returned, but he knew that as soon as their lips met it was going to disappear again.

So, he leaned in once more, capturing the warm mouth with his own and letting his eyes flutter shut. The two things that allowed him to feel nothing else. Darkness and a kiss.

“You make no sense,” the low voice whispered. “Is that your reaction to stress?” Despite the words, the arm around his waist tightened and pulled him closer to the soaked, firm body.

He shook his head, but not for long because it kept him from kissing. The other man was wrong in assuming that it was about stress. He didn't feel stressed at all, anything but that. He felt euphoric and calm at the same time, able to focus but also breathless. Cold surrounded him, but the warmth took over as soon as they touched. The kiss was transcending beyond his lips, spreading throughout his body and all the way to his fingertips. He didn't want it to stop.

"Don't stop," he muttered and sucked on the delicious bottom lip because it reminded him the most of honey.

“You-” the other man hissed and caught his bottom lip with his sharp teeth. The sensation was different and a bit exciting. “You know that everything has an ending in one way or another, right? Or do you think I can just stand here under the pouring rain and kiss you until I die of hunger and thirst and overwhelming arousal?” There was a chuckle that sounded somewhat familiar, warm somehow.

_Because it makes you feel good._

He knew that this was the moment he was supposed to act, to do or say something, but he never knew which words to say. Everything was meant to have an end, but shouldn't there be a way to extend it?

_Didn't he tell you what to say? In the letter?_

He let his hand travel up to the soaked black hair and grabbed a fistful of it, enjoying the drops that ran down his wrist. His eyes stayed closed at first because he needed the focus to speak, to express himself.

"I want you to kiss me and make me feel good," he whispered and finally opened his eyes, aware that he needed to see the reaction, even if he couldn't understand it.

“You- what?” Hoseok bit on his bottom lip, chewing it and looking intrigued if he was judging it correctly. “But- listen, how can I make you feel good next to a traffic light in the pouring rain? None of the things that happened make sense so far, and your bag is lying here full of tomatoes and filling with rain. There needs to be an environment for kissing and... I can’t just-” Exhaling sharply, Hoseok pulled him flush against his body, using a bit too much strength than necessary as the low, attractive voice whispered right into his ear. “How would you like me to make you feel good? Do you… want me to touch you?”

Again, there were questions. Somehow, he thought this time it would be easier, without additional words he needed, without questions that required answers. He wanted to kiss and remain attached to that warm body. He wanted to feel the wet skin under his fingertips and he wanted those fingertips to run over his. They were soft, not too much and somehow the world made so much more sense when they applied pressure to his waist.

"Yeah," he breathed out while furiously trying to focus enough to find a solution to the other problems. Why couldn't he make him feel good on the street? Was it a human rule again?

_But he can be somewhere else, with you._

"Come to my office tomorrow," he added and kissed that curved mouth again while his hand tugged on the wet locks. It felt so good that he hummed, hugging the warmth tighter.

There was the sensation of a hand stroking down his soaked back, plastering the shirt even more against his skin, before Hoseok made their groins brush against each other with a pull at his waist. “You want me to make you feel good at work? For real? But what about me? Do you think you will be able to make me feel good too?” A gorgeous, playful smile lifted those curved mouth corners, before Hoseok looked at him once again, trying to catch his gaze. “And about last time...” Suddenly, the other man stepped out of his embrace and stretched out his arm, placing a small palm on his chest. It must've been a precaution to prevent him from stepping closer and wrapping his arms around that muscular, warm body. “Look at me and tell me if you were in your right mind. I kept thinking that I might have accidentally used a vulnerable moment. I need to know if you really wanted it.”

He paused, confused because there was no warm body and no good feelings, no kiss on the lips that burned him up from the inside and no cold drops that distracted him from his thoughts.

_But how could he doubt it?_

"I was in my right mind, I wanted it and I want you to do it again, preferably now, but-" he muttered quickly, wondering if the situation was going to return to the way he had felt before. He wanted it back so badly, but Hoseok had already said that it wouldn't be possible. They wouldn't be able to kiss because there was a traffic light. A rule, no kissing next to a traffic light.

"But we can't, so you have to come tomorrow. Come and make me feel good." He swallowed, trying to furiously think whether he had forgotten something. It was so hard without the kisses and the car noises sounding louder than his thoughts. "I- I'm going to make you feel good too. Just the way you want it."

“Dang, you’re cute,” Hoseok murmured with a grin, using his hand to stroke over his shoulder and neck before giving him a soft kiss on his mouth and placing his grocery bag back on his shoulder. “I’ll show you the first part I coded tomorrow. I’ll come around noon.” Then the handsome face disappeared and there was only a broad, muscular back that he stared at and that got smaller and smaller before disappearing around the corner.

The rain returned and hit his shoulders and head, collecting on the white plastic of his bag before it dropped to the concrete under his shoes. The noise was back, the barking was back and somehow, he was all alone in front of a red traffic light that told him to stand as three people crossed it anyway, breaking the rules.

The world was right back to the way it was while he stood amidst it, feeling ice cold and far from being a part of it.

Couldn't it be a kiss that breaks eternal silence?

_

Wet marks remained on the stairs as he walked up, dark brown shoe traces that looked like dirt on the wooden steps. Usually he would have been thinking about something else, maybe the tomatoes in his bag or the work he still had to do, but this time his full attention was focused on the similarly dark brown marks next to his own. The wet marks that led to the first floor and not to his door, but the one next to it.

_He was outside too, getting wet just like you did._

Excitement took over the emptiness and disappointment that he felt, and the last two steps were bridged in a second as he fumbled with his door and finally set foot into his apartment. Just as he had hoped there was a piece of paper on his carpet, lying on top of the place he felt safest as if it was slowly becoming a part of it. A second place that he felt safe.

His fingers trembled a little, maybe from the cold, and he tried twice to unfold the paper and read its contents. As soon as his eyes fell on the first word, he was overwhelmed by a hint of cherry, sweet and like a daydream, reminding him of the scent of skin and the taste of honey from the day before.

_You just kissed somebody else and still your thoughts return to him._

His feet stumbled to his desk all on their own with the letter in hand, preparing to write a reply even before he finished reading it. It felt important, like he needed to show that he didn't want to stop writing, that it had almost become a lifeline to him.

The man behind the wall had been outside, running through the rain at night and thinking about him, sharing the feeling as he had hoped they would. It meant the letter was from last night and he must have missed it.

_You ran outside as soon as you saw the rain._

'I'm sorry for writing so late. It's unlike me considering that my hands were shaking when I finally saw your letter. This morning I saw the rain outside the window and simply ran out, even before I decided where I was going to go or what I should do. The rain keeps its promise of erasing thoughts, but I don't think it can compete with a kiss. A kiss creates the perfect silence, the perfect focus to pay attention to the person next to me, to their hands and lips.

I was outside too last night. I hoped that by standing in the rain, we could share another moment, another part of you that I understand.

You said that you wanted more than I did, but how do you know? How can you be sure that what you want isn't what I want, if even I don't know what I want? I know it sounds complicated, but I don't think I've ever wanted to be close to somebody like that. Kissing wipes my mind in the best way possible, sets me on fire and even though I couldn't see your face yesterday there was something intimate to it, a moment only we share. Does that make sense?'

He stopped writing and closed his eyes, thinking about what had happened just now, the man he had decided to kiss only moments ago.

_It was different, wasn’t it?_

The feeling was difficult to explain, even though it was his own. He yearned to kiss, to taste honey and to have arms around him, but the way he yearned for it wasn't the same with Hoseok and the man behind the wall. Hoseok was the man who was meant to be with him, the man who was going to spend the rest of his life with him and kiss him because it was a part of it.

The man behind the wall on the other hand. He… was a person who knew him, who read his letters full of truth and still wrote to him. The man behind the wall was somebody who understood him, even if only a little. Kissing those lips, even if he hadn't seen who they belonged to, felt liberating, like he could melt into the touch without thinking about what he had to do, what he had to say. The fear had still been there, but at the same time he felt like the man behind the wall was somebody that he chose to kiss, to be with.

_But what does that even mean?_

'What do you think is the difference between arousal and affection?' he continued in his letter and tried to come up with his own take on it. 'Both are felt towards another person and they might even result in the same action, a kiss. But still they are different, aren't they?

Were you afraid of not wanting me anymore? Is that why you stopped? Is it like when you desire an apple and then you eat it, so then you don't want an apple anymore? Are you afraid that it will happen with me too, that you won't want to have me close anymore?

The thought of not wanting to be next to you seems strange to me. Kissing has only made it stronger, like gasoline on a fire, only that I'm not ready to explode yet. But I think you could make me, probably even with your words alone. You choose them so well.

You said that you fear the pain will catch up with you. The person who you were with before, are they also a pain that you are running away from? I find it terrible and scary when people change their mind, because I can never understand why. Everything is so set for me that the mere thought of a change scares me, enough to tremble and lose feeling in my body. Is the pain similar for you? I wish I could make it better, turn it into something nice, something that you don't have to run away from anymore.

Maybe I'm being selfish too, simply because I'm scared that you might run away from me too in the end.'

He swallowed, trying to get rid of the image of the man behind the wall packing his suitcase and disappearing for good, forever, right out of his life. There would be no letters, no understanding, no breaths behind the wall and no wet steps next to his own in the staircase. He would be alone again.

A drop fell on the letter paper and smudged the last word, turning it into a small puddle of ink.

'I'm sorry for crying on your letter,' he wrote and rubbed over his eyes. 'It's not water, but a tear because I thought of you leaving. I'm sorry for trying to keep you, but I think I need you, even if you don't quite understand why.

You say that you might not be human because you like me, but who knows, maybe you haven't seen it all yet. You haven't seen me break down, seen how difficult it is for me to understand the simplest things. I'm not from this world, but it's like a secret I carry around with me, because nobody else can see it. To them I'm just a dysfunctional human it seems, so are you sure that you like me?

P.S. The scent of your letter took my breath away, making me feel hot even though I am soaked and should be freezing. I miss your touch.'

He lifted the paper to his lips and kissed it, leaving a wet mark that turned the paper transparent. At first, he remained on his chair and listened, trying to find out if the other man was there and could see as soon as he gave him a letter. He tried for several seconds, listening but not hearing any loud noises and for breaths, he was too far from the wall.

His legs carried him out of the apartment and to the other door instead, still soaked and dressed because he had been outside. Holding his breath, he kept his fingers under the door, hoping to feel a hint of warmth, to feel a delicate hand hold his for just a second before accepting his letter.

As usual, the apartment looked dark and he couldn't see a shadow, but it was there, the warmth of a hand, carefully stroking over his fingers before taking the letter. "Thank you for replying," he heard the low voice behind the door.

He remained crouching in front of it, heart beating furiously because he knew what had happened the last time that he spoke and heard the other man's voice from behind the door.

"Thank you for not closing the suitcase," he whispered back and tried to slip his fingers into the spaces between those delicate ones.

"This might seem like a strange question, but- are you by chance naked? Because if you aren't… would you mind if I held your hand while reading?"

He shook his head furiously until he realised that the other man couldn’t see. "I'm in wet clothes," he breathed out and was surprised by how low his voice sounded. Talking was still difficult and he didn't know what to say, but anything that allowed him to hold onto the warm hand was welcome, anything. "Please hold my hand."

"You should probably change, it must be uncomfortable for your skin, but I'll make it quick, I just want to feel it once. I will explain… the door will open a bit, but you just have to sit with your back against the wall next to the door, I will hold your hand. Would that be okay?"

He hummed, squeezing the warm hand once because he wanted it to stay, no matter what. The man behind the door wanted him to sit with his back against the wall, so he shifted just enough to still be able to hold onto the hand. His heart was loud in his ears, like a drum that wasn't able to find its rhythm and kept missing the tune.

"I talk a lot, so please don't think you have to talk too." A chuckle sounded again, warm and welcoming before the warm hand let go of his as he heard shifting, steps and then the door opened, showing a faint strip of light on the floor of the staircase. The person behind the door must've turned on the light to be able to read. Another few seconds passed, and warm fingers wrapped around his properly, slipping into the spaces between and thumb stroking over his skin.

_It feels so different like this. Like he's really there._

"I would sit in front of your door anytime, if you want me to," the low voice commented before he heard the sound of paper.

Too much time passed before the right words came to him, so he squeezed the warm hand with his own before drawing a small heart with his index finger, making sure to keep it as symmetrical as he was able to.

"Mhm, you think a kiss can compete with the rain? That's interesting. For me the rain doesn't expect any reaction from me so I can let go, a kiss triggers a reaction, a physical one and maybe… also an emotional one." The delicate fingers played with his knuckles, drawing circles around them absentmindedly. "You don't believe that I wanted more? That's because for me a kiss doesn't erase thoughts but gives me more of them, more need and more greed too. I liked kissing you, but I'm a bit experienced, so my body has quite specific suggestions that I try my best to ignore. Especially because you said you don't know what you want, so who am I to tell you? You'll need to find out at some point. You were straightforward about that, but it didn't seem to be included amongst the things you wanted. I keep thinking about that. I keep thinking about you in general."

_Can't he help you understand what you want?_

He hummed to show that he was listening as he tried to make sense of everything. Even when he was talking the other man was so eloquent, able to express his thoughts easily without having to think about it too much. Experience was important, and it was true that he barely had any of it when it came to other people, but there had never been a need for other people when it came to arousal and the things he wanted. Those two had been perfectly split for him, but the lines had begun to blur in a way he wasn't able to follow.

_Kissing makes you greedy too, so how is it different?_

"The difference between arousal and affection is that in theory, you can feel arousal without affection and vice versa, so you can split it, but- in all honesty, there's nothing better than to have both in one place. Connected in one person. When you like somebody, and you want them. And after you experience it, you'll think that something might be missing if you only happen to feel one of the two."

After a few moments of silence and something that sounded like the man next to him had licked over his mouth, a chuckle followed, gorgeous and simply addicting at this point. "You really thought I feared not wanting you anymore? I was scared of wanting you and taking you all for myself in all possible ways. You can stop holding my hand if you're uncomfortable. I feel a bit nervous, like giving a presentation, but I struggled with my own imagination and like this it feels like - like this is more real, like it's really happening. I am answering you and you are listening to my voice and what I have to say while holding my hand. I love it so much I don't want to let go."

"I don't want to let go either." The words were out of his mouth even before he could begin worrying if they were the right ones. Even if they weren't right, they were true. The warm hand in his felt like it belonged there, a small comfort that was stronger than the cold clothes against his body. "You- you speak so well, not only in our letters."

"I'm always so happy to get letters from you because I compare it to the first one I received. You don't like talking and writing so it means even more, it makes it more precious to me. You're amazing. To me." Warm fingers squeezed his hand briefly before the low voice continued. "Ah… about pain and change… Unfortunately, most people change their minds, that's what I was scared of, not that I wouldn't want you, but that you wouldn't want me. That I did something you didn't want or like and destroyed it all. And… " Soft fingertips brushed over his digits and wrapped around them carefully, squeezing them once. "Does this touch feel okay to you?"

"Yeah," he spoke quietly and squeezed back. The more time passed, the stronger his desire grew to climb on top of the other man and hold him tight. He wanted to wrap around him, so tightly that he wouldn't be able to leave and be scared. "It's so warm and- I don't have the words. I think I'm happy."

"You said you didn't have words and gave me the most beautiful ones as a good night present. I don't deserve it, but I'll still take them," the low voice said, and he wanted to see the face to know if the other man smiled, or grinned or frowned. "You wrote you would want to make it better for me, but you do. You are my salvation every night and after I open my eyes, I live on your letters like a junkie, always crazy for more, but… did you cry? Fuck- I didn't mean to make you cry. Ah… It's really hard to keep on sitting here and not turn off the light and just pull you inside."

_Why doesn't he?_

He shifted and chewed on his bottom lip, also struggling to keep staring at the dark staircase while feeling fingers against his own, but also ice-cold fabric sticking to his skin.

"I wish you would," he murmured and buried his face in his knees, thereby making it easier to focus on the pleasant voice alone. There was so much going on at once, but his senses were still too slow to catch up and to understand. "You make me feel less lonely, like a second safe place. Another fluffy carpet."

_He won't understand._

"Do you like fluffy carpets? You talked about breaking down, but my life is one major breakdown, you simply aren't aware. But if you feel lonely… you can always come here at night, it's dark. Unfortunately, there's no silence because I exist next to you, so we can just - exist together for a bit. You might not be from this world because I've never met anybody like you and at the same time I seem to be pulled towards you like a magnet. Maybe you're like a superhero, but people have lost their ability to see? And I can see it so well in the dark. I can see it and I like what I see." His hand was squeezed tightly before those fingers danced over his wrist and further up his arm.

He froze, unable to help it until the suddenness of the touch transformed into a pleasant sensation, enough to pull a gasp from his lips.

_A superhero._

The comparison sounded so familiar, as if from a different time in his life, one in which he would have believed it without a single doubt.

"Maybe I'm like the moon," he replied softly and leaned back against the wall, suddenly feeling hot with the warm hand close to his shoulder. It felt like so much. "Revolving around the Earth instead of being a part of it."

"I am a person who revolves around the moon, because that's the only time I feel alive, but I do know how well-meant advice sounds if you had so many negative experiences. I was wondering… would you like to inhale the scent of my skin? I'm just out of the shower and maybe it feels good to let it cover you. I'm also worried about your wet clothes."

_It will be so warm._

He hummed and moved just a little away from the wall, enough to reach for the hand close to his shoulder and inhale the sweet cherry scent at the wrist. It was quick to surround him and distract him from his thoughts and his concerns. He forgot about his fears and about saying the wrong thing. Still, he didn't speak but moved instead. His lips pressed to the hot skin of the other man's wrist first before they travelled further. He remembered the way he had kissed his legs and knees, how the skin had tasted against his lips and tongue. His curiosity was still there, the need to know if every inch tasted that way, if he could taste it all if only he got close enough.

His lips travelled along the equally hot forearm towards the muscular upper arm, leaving kisses and bites while his eyes remained closed. He was close, so close to the man behind the door, the man he had wanted to kiss since their lips had separated the night before.

_There will be nothing but him and his scent, nothing but him and his scent, lips and words._

The decision was sudden, present in his head without him remembering the thoughts that led up to it. Holding onto the warm arm, he pulled the door open just enough to be able to squeeze his body through it.

A loud click sounded, turning the hint of muscular, pale thighs he had seen into a vague shadow and taking the hesitation and fear he felt all at once. His arms were quick to wrap around the muscular neck and his knees found a spot on each side of the other man's hips. It felt warm, so warm against his body, like a fire that he had decided to embrace.

"Burn me with your body," he breathed out, feeling dizzy and breathless as warm exhales tickled his lips.

Arousal and affection. If only he could tell them apart.

***

Listening to those steps, the creaking of the floor and those slim fingers that slipped under his door, waiting for a touch, was like the feeling he could only experience in the night time. Like the presence of a parallel reality, like those thoughts that only came to him when it was dark enough for him to stop focusing on his own shadow and the colour of the ink staining the paper in front of him. The person behind the wall, the person behind the door, the person who felt out of this world, he wanted to make him part of his own. Take him and wrap his arms around him until there was only them.

Them.

It felt like he suddenly wasn’t alone anymore. Now there was somebody else who could see his invisible existence that split between day and night and his words, the longing to make it feel graspable and solid, was what made him open that door and wrap his fingers around the big hand as he read and replied. The wall still separated them, but they had found a way around it, a way to share the warmth, careful touches and even a few words without breaking anything. Without risking it turning into something else. Something that he didn’t know about, but was afraid of nevertheless.

“I’m like the moon,” the low voice said, and his mind supplied why it must’ve been the case.

_You are the moon_

_glancing through my window_

_and only you can see_

_Me._

When he had asked the man behind the door to come to him the first time, he had turned off the light because he didn’t want to break it. But now, the thought that they didn’t need to see each other’s faces, that they didn’t need to recognize each other on the street in an awkward way and didn’t need to involve the light into something that has started in the darkness excited him, made it feel so much more special, made him feel so much. He had never felt that way before, overwhelmed and addicted, full of affection towards a person he has never seen.

He held his breath when those lips travelled up his arm and towards his shoulder, feeling dizzy from the sensations. From the longing that transformed into greed and curiosity, into a burning want.

He turned off the light just before there was cold fabric against his skin, warm arms around his neck, pleasant weight on top of his thighs and the low, breathy voice asking him to act. To make the person on top of him burn.

Finally, he exhaled the air he had been holding and inhaled deeply, hands stroking over the cold fabric around the firm thighs that he knew felt so much better without. He was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, but they only soaked up the water uselessly.

When his fingers reached the bottom of what felt like a long-sleeved shirt, he pulled it up, slowly uncovering more skin that he could only feel, the goose bumps that covered it and how cool it was compared to his own. “I want to feel you,” he whispered, pulling the wet piece of clothing over the other man’s head and stroking over the slim, naked torso with both hands. He enjoyed the shape of the body on top of him and how different it was from his own. The scent was familiar and made him feel impatient to taste more, so he leaned in, covering the slim chest in hot open-mouthed kisses. He hummed at the taste on his tongue as his lips travelled up the slightly warmer neck, excited to explore more and to kiss the soft mouth again. "I couldn't stop thinking about the way you taste," he breathed out against the pulsating jugular vein before tracing it with the tip of his tongue.

He could feel the muscles contract under his fingers and tongue as the man on his lap trembled from the open-mouthed kisses on his chest. He had spoken, but there was no reply, none in the form of words. Instead he heard rough exhales, hums whenever his lips brushed over patches that must be particularly sensitive. Wet fingers roamed over his shoulders and slipped under the fabric of his t-shirt, as if they were helplessly looking for a way to access more of him, to abandon the layer in between.

"Taste me," the low voice murmured right next to his ear before the slim body pressed flush against his, holding on tightly and capturing his hips in between the lean thighs.

“Mhm, I will, I’m teasing myself with the scent of your skin. Do you want me to take off my shirt?” he asked right next to the small ear, licking over its shell and closing his lips around the lobe to suck on it briefly.

The other man hummed softly at first, before he decided that it wasn't enough as he nodded furiously and hugged him tighter. Fingers were still playing with his shirt and tugging at the collar to reach his collarbones, to trace them with an index finger and then a thumb.

"You're so warm. So so warm. Like a fire, the sun," he heard close to his ear, murmured softly as if it wasn't even meant for him.

He smiled but nobody could see it as he quickly reached for the hem of his t-shirt and leaned back to pull it over his head and discard it somewhere in the dark room because it was of no use to him anymore. It had been one of the remarkable features of being close to the person from behind the wall. It seemed as if he immediately lost grip on anything but those words, those low sounds, those breaths, the sound of naked feet and the soft fingertips stroking over his skin.

As soon as the shirt was off his chest, big palms began to explore it, roaming along his shoulders and then down to his chest, his ribs and his abdomen. The way fingers traced each dip appeared planned, like lines that had been drawn all over him and were now being recreated by long fingers one by one. He could see shadows, the silhouette of the man above him as he slipped back just enough to be able to bend in half and leaned in to nibble on his neck and lick a line along each of his collar bones. The motions resembled a cat, back arched and hands resting on top of his thighs as a hot tongue did all the work.

It felt like the man in front of him was drawing with his tongue, paying attention to parts of him that seemed arbitrary. He traced the shell of his ear, then a spot right below it. The highest point on his shoulders, the middle of his forearm, the inside of his elbow, each nipple, but then also every second rib.

He focused on the pleasant sensations and used his own fingertips to explore the body on top of him, his broad shoulders, flat chest and stomach, those tiny nipples that he couldn’t wait to taste again and a narrow waist that he had to wrap his arms around, as if it was made for him. Made for him to hold close.

“Come here,” he breathed out and used his grip to easily pull the other man back on top of his lap, hands stroking from his waist, over his chest and cupping his face that still felt a bit cooler than his hands but was soft like a cloud. “Should I really make you burn?”

He wasn't even able to finish his sentence as plump lips clashed against his, bruising his bottom lip slightly before the pain made way for the familiar electrifying sensation that passed from his lips to the centre of his body, making his heart beat furiously in excitement. The other man's arms were tightly wrapped around his neck and he could feel his prominent groin rub against his abdomen. There were several quick nods, but they got buried in the desperate attempts to get even closer, to kiss and have cool skin meet his own in every way possible.

Moaning softly, he made sure to keep his hands on the spots that enabled him to lead the man on his lap, pulling him closer and pushing him further away when he leaned in to nibble on his delicious neck.

Here it was, the tingling all over his body, the greed to feel everything at once and the gentle thoughts, the empathy, the attempts to read those hands that hungrily roamed his body, touching him in ways that made him shake from anticipation.

“You asked about the difference between arousal and affection, didn’t you?” He smiled, but there was no way to see that he did in the dark. “Arousal is pretty straightforward, isn’t it? It’s being touched and liking it… like this.” He stroked from the other man’s knee towards his groin before applying pressure and brushing over his prominent erection in a purposeful motion.

The moan that left the plump mouth couldn't compare to any of the sounds he had heard before. It was louder and rougher than the signs of pleasure he had heard through the wall and even though the man in front of him had been breathless as they kissed the last time, he hadn't sounded like that. There was something desperate to the way those rough breaths stuttered right after, to how the hands roaming over his chest trembled in response to something as simple as a brief moment of friction.

He observed the silhouette and listened to the desperate breaths. The other man needed several long moments to recover from the touch with his head thrown back. His long fingers regained their strength and held onto him with more vigour than necessary, as if feeling that they were going to give up on him any second.

“You are so sensitive. Makes me want to touch you more,” he breathed out, overwhelmed by the other man’s reaction and too greedy for his own good. He had wanted to make a point, to explain the difference, but instead, the reaction caught him off guard. “Whatever, I’ll explain the difference in a letter later,” he muttered right after, before leaning forward with one arm around the slim waist until they both lay on the carpet that he had put to the side to have more space below his door. His lips attached to the slightly warmed up skin, but he knew how much warmer it could feel, so he crawled up and carefully lowered his weight on top of the other man’s body, lips almost touching and listening carefully to every single sound that soft mouth was making.

"I- I didn't know burning felt like this," the man below him exhaled and he felt the motion of eyelashes against his skin as he shifted.

“You didn’t? Would you like to burn more?” he whispered and bit on his bottom lip, purposefully only shifting the weight on his hips.

Again, there was a moan, a little less intense than the first one, but still more than a shift of body weight should have evoked. He could hear the other man's breaths return to their rough pattern and air tickled his face. Hands instantly reached for his arms, holding on, but not to stop him. It seemed rather like they were meant to give the man below him a sense of control.

A hand travelled from his arm to his hair and he felt a light tug, just enough to tilt his head a little higher as hot exhales brushed over his lips.

"Yes," the low voice mouthed, so quiet that he barely heard it, but he could trace the word with his lips.

He nodded, shifted his weight on his forearm and used his free hand to stroke over the bare chest, the flat stomach. He could feel it flex when his fingers drew lines over the waist of the wet jeans. “You can always say if anything I’m doing feels like too much to you. I’ll stop,” he commented, before carefully catching those lips in an intimate kiss, humming into it as he applied some pressure and brushed over the lifted fabric between the other man’s legs once again.

The subsequent moan was caught within their kiss, echoing in his head instead of the space around them. It still felt surreal to him how the whole, lean body contracted below him, freezing in place before releasing all tension right after. Hums joined the kiss and rough exhales that left the other man's nose and brushed over his. Fingers reached for him and cupped his cheeks, stroked over his hair or suddenly buried in the skin of his biceps, as if the person below him couldn't quite control what he was doing, couldn't help it.

It must've felt rough, especially against the sensitive skin and he remembered the other man talking about his preference for being naked because he couldn't stand fabric. He tried his best not to break the kiss as his fingers undid the button and pulled down the zipper. Maybe the underwear felt better, but he couldn't be sure, so he slipped his fingers under it and curled around the hot erection that pulsated against his fingers as he gave it a brief stroke, applying pressure to the tip. It had been a long time since he touched somebody, but he liked it. He liked it way too much.

The man below him whimpered into the kiss and scratched over his arm, holding on way too tightly. The sounds that were caught between them caused his skin to tingle with excitement, with all the possibilities of pulling even louder sounds from that delicious mouth. He felt an attempt to make him move, hips that lifted off the carpet, but froze right after, overwhelmed by how it must have felt.

"Would you like more?" he asked during a short break when his mouth lifted from the delicious lips. He stared into the darkness, played with his fingers and explored the velvety soft skin with his fingertips, index finger spreading the precum over the hot tip. "Because I do."

He expected silence and a nonverbal reply, but fingers pulled at his hair to have his ear aligned with the plump mouth.

"Yes," the low voice replied, sounding rough and desperate. Just when he was about to lean back and spoil the other man with more kisses there was a breathy moan and another yes, repeating like a quiet mantra of whispers. As if one couldn't express how much he wanted to be touched.

He hummed in agreement and decided that there was exactly one nice way to make the other man feel good without having to clean up awkwardly in the dark, so he carefully loosened the firm grip on his hair and slipped lower, littering the warm chest in kisses, sucking those cute nipples into his mouth and smiling when the lean stomach flexed against his tongue. It was dark, but he knew so well what he had to do, so naturally a few seconds passed before he settled between those legs. "I really hope that you won't change your mind after this," he murmured and dug his tongue into the slit, tasting the person he was dreaming of for real this time.

The sound that followed was close to a scream and sent his blood south in a matter of milliseconds. His hands were quick enough to keep the slim hips in place as they automatically attempted to lift off the floor. There were so many minimal changes that revealed how good it must have felt, the sound, the contractions throughout the other man's body, the way he could hear him throw his head back in pleasure. Thighs spread at first to feel more before pulling back together right after, squeezing him in between as if he was playing at the border of what the man below him could take.

He liked it so much that he continued teasing, using his tongue to trace the connection between head and shaft that he knew felt best and was most sensitive. After a few seconds, he finally closed his lips around the twitching erection and took it into his mouth, tightening his lips around it on his way up and humming because he knew how good it felt.

Again, he had to apply pressure to keep the other man in place as he tried to wiggle in his hold, hips lifting off the carpet and legs suddenly wrapping around his neck. Instead of holding on to him, the other man had buried his fingers in the carpet next to his head, scratching over it roughly whenever he moved his lips. Rough moans and mumbled words began to rain from the plump mouth, incoherent but sounding so desperate, as if the other man had no filter before speaking them. Remembering his previous experiences, Hoseok could say for sure that he has never been close to anybody that sensitive. The person curving his back like a snake, scratching over the carpet and trying to fit more of himself between his lips was one of a kind.

Maybe that had been the reason for fearing the light and the unwillingness to let each other see. He was scared that the person on the other side of the wall would see all his flaws, his grey washed out shirts, his old open suitcase, the pain in his eyes because he couldn't cope and the fact that he was only half a human if it wasn't night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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CHAPTER 7

_“Do you think we will end up together? You'll be an adult, have people you're friends with. And how will you find me anyway?"_

_"I told you, I'm not human, so I will. Just wait for me."_

_

Darkness, warmth, kisses. Touches, warmth that transformed into heat and even more kisses. The countless details that had made up his perception before were suddenly turning off like tiny bulbs on a string of Christmas lights. They blinked at first, but as soon as those delicate hands got closer, as soon as hot lips touched his skin, they burned out like their existence had suddenly become obsolete.

_Like there is nothing but the core of your thoughts._

Somehow, he hadn't realised at first, even when some of the lights turned off along with drops running down his skin or along with lips against his own. A single tiny lamp didn't make a difference, the store window still shone in the dark, but the more there were, the more obvious the concrete below and the sky above the store window became.

_The more obvious you become._

Maybe his existence and his thoughts resembled the milky way. If there were too many city lights it wasn't visible, like an extra-terrestrial vision that scares humans as soon as it gets dark. Maybe he was like that too, a being that had to be drowned in detail to remain invisible, buried beneath the impressions.

_But he crumbles the thick prison walls like a cracker._

His thoughts were disrupted, incomplete and messy as he tried to be closer, to feel more and still answer every word that was spoken towards him. He had to, because he didn't want it to end, to stop before he could drown the noise inside his head. A few lamps always remained, shining brighter than the others and keeping him just aware enough to know that he didn't want to be any more aware, to turn on any more than had already been shining.

He muttered yes, murmured how much he needed to burn and to forget himself, to silence the loud thoughts and everything but the sensation of lips. His focus closed like an iris, getting smaller until there was nothing but the man above him, nothing but the feeling and the sounds he wanted to perceive. There was nothing else but those impressions, nothing but darkness, touches and kisses until-

There was suddenly nothing at all. Not a single thought in his mind, nothing but a feeling so strong that it burned through his body like electricity. Pleasure, more electricity, darkness, pleasure, low words, pleasure, burning, touches, burning, pleasure. Every single lamp had turned off, leaving nothing but his core, his perceptions without words or what they could have meant. He lost sense of where his body was, what his hands were doing, what his mouth was saying, whether it was saying anything at all. Nothing but pleasure and heat remained, nothing but a cloud of heat that filled him out all the way to his fingertips before finally exploding in a blizzard of white.

He heard his own breaths first, rough and rapid in his ears as his fingers and lips throbbed with the speed of his heartbeat. Sounds were next, something wet, a hum, more breaths. The ticking of a clock, a slightly scratchy carpet under his back that felt like so much he wanted to close his eyes and return to the nothing he had felt just now, the nothing that had been too much but perfect at the same time.

His whole body trembled, and he coughed, trying to override the sensations that started crashing through the wall of nothing. The lamps turned on way too fast, returning sounds he didn't want to hear, pipes, a toilet flush on the second floor, the scratching of his own nails over the carpet and the sound of wet skin sliding over similarly wet skin.

The sound of his breaths was only adding to the mixture that turned painful, enough for him to hum to override it and attempt to escape somewhere, somewhere silent and regular. He wanted to listen to breaths, to a heartbeat, to the sleeping man behind the wall, even if it wasn't often. Anything.

He tried to move, but he couldn't quite tell what his arms and legs were doing. His arms were against something hot, so hot that it helped him forget the carpet, so he wrapped his whole body around it as tightly as he could. There was the scent of cherry and maybe fresh sweat, strong enough to override everything else and he tried to bury his face within it, to smell and hear nothing but cherries and breaths.

_Why did all of it have to return?_

He couldn't answer the question, just like he couldn't make it stop by himself. There was still darkness, but somehow the lamps returned too quickly, quicker than he was able to handle them. The pitch black that he had experienced for what felt like a moment was gone now and he wanted to feel it again so badly, to melt in the flame like the candles he turned on in his apartment.

_Please._

Warm arms wrapped around him, moving him like a doll and placing his head on something equally warm. “Would you like to go back?” the low voice asked quietly.

He nodded, even if he didn't know where ‘back’ was. If it was the darkness with nothing but feeling, then he wanted to go back there. He wanted to stay there if possible, have nothing but a single sensation that was so intense it took over everything else. The warmth was calming, so he wrapped around it as well as he could, lips pressed against what must have been skin.

He knew that somebody was talking to him and that he felt safe next to that person, but everything else was so much harder to grasp when the pipes, steps and even birds were louder than his thoughts.

"But you can't go back with me in your arms, can you? I hope that the door didn't close. I- I'll take you to your door." There was shifting, and he was pulled up to his feet, with one arm wrapped around his waist. "It must've been a bit too much, I'm sorry, I should've known."

He couldn't place the words, figure out what they were relating to. Was it the darkness followed by white? That couldn't have been too much because it was exactly what he wanted. Was it about the sensations afterwards, the way they came crashing in? That had been too much for him to handle, it still was.

He didn't know what to say, so he didn't speak and merely squeezed the hand around his waist as soon as he found it. It was as warm as the heat he was yearning for, but something told him that he shouldn't be getting used to it.

A door opened and there was a bit more light that overwhelmed his senses and he was led to the open door of his apartment. "I wish I knew what exactly it is that you like and need, but maybe you can teach me. I want to know. Sleep well. I will still reply because my thoughts are a bit different now." He could barely lift his gaze as the arm around his waist disappeared and he stumbled into his apartment, door closing with a deafening noise.

He sank to the floor immediately, feeling the fluffy carpet under his knees, but not enough because there was fabric, fabric he didn't even remember wearing. His hands worked on their own as they removed it layer after layer, everything until there was only his skin and the sensation of his carpet. His cheek pressed into it, smelling the faint scent of fried walnut and wondering if it was also possible to smell nothing at all. To think nothing at all and to perceive nothing at all. To be caught in a limbo of eternal silence that was only interrupted by the sound of another person because he wasn't alone.

Only right at that instant, after feeling so much and experiencing so much, he suddenly was. Alone.

_

One, two, three, four, five. One, two, three, four, five. One, two-

The rhythm with which he curled each of the fingers on his right hand suddenly stopped, pausing in the middle of it even though he could have never done that by himself. His eyes finally opened, and he groaned softly at the soreness of his back and the unnecessary brightness of the hallway lamp above his head.

_You must be on the carpet._

He sat up and glanced around, feeling calm because his apartment looked just the way he had left it. The sun was already up, and the room was sufficiently bright without electric light, but he must have turned it on at some point the night before and forgotten to turn it back off.

_Maybe you forgot to turn yourself back on._

He didn't know what time it was, or even what day, so he lifted on his knees to take a glance at the alarm clock. It showed a seven, a two and another seven. That meant there were still several minutes left before he had to go to work and be focused. He liked the outlook and smiled before simply throwing himself back on the carpet and examining the ceiling. He needed every second of calm he could get, so he purposefully took deep breaths and prepared himself for what was to come.

His hands drew pointless patterns above his head, aimlessly roaming over the carpet to focus on the way it felt until they suddenly came across a paper.

_A letter._

His excitement from the night before returned in full force, as if he hadn't been unconscious in between and barely aware of what was happening around him. Seeing a letter meant that everything was fine, that no matter what he might have said, it wasn't a reason to stop writing.

_He said he would._

Fumbling with the paper in his hands, he finally unfolded it and began reading.

'I wanted to show you the difference between arousal and affection, but caught myself experiencing both at once with you, subsequently forgetting about the point I wanted to make all along.'

He paused, wondering if he had experienced both things simultaneously as well. Were those two even distinguishable? Both emotions appeared intense and connected to him. The need to caress was connected to feeling pleasure while caressing, wasn't it?

'First, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for overwhelming you with my touch, you seemed unaware and a bit confused. I really enjoyed touching you and tasting you like that, but I don't have to if it feels like too much. I don't need anything at all if it makes you feel any kind of discomfort.

Honestly, I'm scared to make even more mistakes than I already am making, but what I'm more afraid of is to not feel your hand and read your words that slip under my door when you come to share them.'

_It's the same feeling, isn't it? He's also afraid to make a mistake._

He couldn't imagine that there was another person that felt the same way he did, a human who did. Maybe even a human that could understand him.

_It seems too good to be true._

He got up from the carpet, still holding onto the letter and accidentally bruised his arm on his way to the bedroom. It left red scratches that he ignored because the letter stole all his available attention.

'You said you don't like talking, but you also said that you get misunderstood. Is that the reason for your silence? That you think I might misunderstand you? If that's the case, I will do everything to understand you and I'll ask if it's confusing to me, so please don't force yourself to keep silent. I really love the sound of your voice and your words have only made me feel happiness until now.

I'm not sure why I'm talking about all the things that I'm unsure and scared of, I guess it's the night and the lack of your scent that I want to envelop myself in. Or maybe because I stumbled over my suitcase and my brain asked me why I'm still here. I am here because of you, I think.

I'm scared of showing myself to you too, because my flaws are all here, on my face and I'm not myself when it isn't dark. I'm just a shadow of someone who is cursed to live at night. I'm scared that you will see and feel disappointed. This way, even if you see me on the street in the pouring rain, you won't know that it's me and I won't know that it's you even though we could as well be one entity, you soaking under the rain because you're trying to understand me and me running from pain and trying to get rid of my thoughts when all of them are currently circling around you.

You could take a shower in your apartment, wanting to feel the way I feel, and I undress and try to feel air against my body because you said it feels nice. It does feel nice but having you in my arms feels so much nicer than anything else.

I keep writing poems for you, but I mostly don't show them because you said that you struggle to grasp the meaning. Let me just write a short one, because it keeps circling in my head since I closed your door. '

He swallowed, overwhelmed by the meaning of the words on the paper in front of him. The man behind the wall expressed so much, revealed so many things about himself that humans never talked about. There was no meaningless conversation, no small talk and no topics that didn't matter. All their letters were filled with thoughts and opinions, things he was never able to access on his own.

_He helps you understand through the way he writes._

His fingers were trembling as he looked for a decent fountain pen this time and tried to copy the poem on a blue piece of paper. He wanted the swan in his drawer to have a new lake, one with words on them.

_'If only I could touch you_

_Like the ink stroking paper_

_Gently_

_Always knowing what to say.'_

He let his fingers brush over the paper, imagining that he could stroke it the way the ink did. He also imagined that it was the other man's skin, burning under his fingertips. The words continued in his head, this time with the sound of the low voice talking to him and holding his hand.

'I'm sorry that I wasn't aware of how overwhelming it must be for you to be close. Do you experience closeness like that often? Or was it something specific that I did? I am sorry in advance if it's the case.

I keep feeling greedier and more scared and there's no way to satisfy both. What if I fail to do the things that caught your interest in the first place?

I have a request. Please tell me to leave if you've had enough of me, it would be so much easier to leave if you asked me to.

P.S. This is probably the saddest letter that you've ever gotten after an orgasm, but on the bright side, I genuinely love the way you taste. H.'

His face felt a little hot, probably because he had never received a compliment like that. Nobody had ever remarked on the way he tasted and having the man behind the wall comment on that after knowing felt genuine and was another experience that they shared.

Smiling, he grabbed a new sheet of paper and prepared to write his answer, making sure to add a few marks for lines so that his handwriting looked more elegant. With all the effort that the other man put in, he wanted to show that he cared too.

_You want to go back and be close again._

'You mentioned affection and arousal,' he began and chewed on his lips as he tried to find the right words to explain what he thought. 'I find it difficult to see the difference, but maybe that is because I also always experience both at once. Isn't the wish to caress the other person affection while the reaction to caressing is arousal? You make me feel so much that I struggle to differentiate between all those emotions.

You keep apologizing, but I fail to see what exactly you are apologizing for. The way you made me feel is difficult to put into words, but it is not discomfort. It was a desirable state, a state in which all the sensations that usually distract me finally turned off. There was nothing but me and you, nothing but your touch and the way it made me feel. I'm not sure I have ever felt that free before and you apologizing for it is the last thing you should do. I should be the one thanking you for giving me the chance to know what it's like when there is no noise, no sounds and only an electrifying sensation that rushes through my whole body.

Have you felt like that before? Maybe it's another thing that differentiates me from humans. I lose all awareness, but I enjoy how it feels. I wish it would never end, but then it does and all those things that were suppressed are suddenly even louder in my head. It's not you touching me that way that made me uncomfortable. It was my thoughts returning as soon as you stopped.'

He tried to turn the pen to relax his wrist, but dropped it accidentally, curses spilling from his lips. The state he had experienced was so difficult to describe to somebody who probably never even heard about it. To the man behind the wall he must have been strange and unaware, holding onto him desperately without speaking a word.

'You're right. Being misunderstood is one of the reasons I am afraid to speak. To be honest, I couldn't really stop talking when I was a child, mostly about things that I was interested in and nobody else. I still can't understand how one can be ambivalent towards artificial intelligence. I think it's fascinating. If I could I would build myself a human-like robot, so I wouldn't have to be alone. One that doesn't think I'm strange and enjoys being with me. One that doesn't mind if I say upsetting things that I don't mean.

I wish I could have you instead of a robot. But maybe I will be able to recreate someone like you one day, somebody who understands.

Did you think that I don't enjoy being with you because I didn't say anything? When you asked me if I want to go back, I thought you meant back to being close and feeling the way I did, utterly focused on my body and the sparks behind my eyelids. I'm not sure if you know what it's like, I think humans don't have that, but for me there are sounds that constantly make their way inside my head. It's as if the kid kicking a ball one street away is doing it right next to your head and with so much force it hurts. Every little sound is like that to me, but when I'm with you there is just the scent of cherry and breaths and myself. It feels like all those sounds finally leave my head and there is only me.

Who knows, maybe you're the first person who saw _me_.'

He underlined the word 'me' a few times to show how much it mattered. The man behind the wall had said he wanted to understand, so there had to be an explanation, no matter how bad it was.

_He's trying, and you must help._

'I want you to know that I am somebody who struggles to lie. It feels wrong to me, like a physical pain that burns in my temples and screams at me that I have broken an important rule. The rule to be truthful. It was one of the first ones that my grandma taught me. Humans tend to assume that others are lying, but I don't and want you to know that even though I struggle with poems it feels like the ones you write play out in my head. I tried to stroke the paper, wondering if I could do it the way the ink does.

The words just flow out as I write, but when I'm in front of you I'm scared that you'll be disappointed after all. That you'll think weirdness is cool on paper, but a person should have their shit together face to face. I'm somebody who barely keeps his shit together as soon as I leave the house.

Not even my grandma really knows that, so you're the first one I told. Please keep it safe. Keep it safe and know that if you need me to tell you to leave to leave, then those words will never leave my lips. Ever.

I don't want you to leave. I don't even know what I'd do if you weren't there anymore. There needs to be the shower noise, and the nightmares at eight and two zeros. The loud breaths, the moans, the screeching of the bed and the wooden boards. I need all those things since somehow those sounds have a purpose now, they are a part of you.

P.S. I'm glad you like the way I taste, because so do I, H.'

A smile blossomed on his lips and even though it was early morning and he had barely slept, there was a lightness to his being. Everything was back to the routine he enjoyed. He received a letter and wrote one back before going to work, hopeful to have another letter as a reward after surviving the day.

With a sound breaking the eternal silence, life seemed easier somehow.

_

His right hand scrolled its way through several hundred lines of code he had written, code that was meant to help him train a network to write poetry. Of course, this was far from the result and even further from producing poetry, but at least the network knew language well enough to talk at this point.

_It makes about as much sense as you do, but it talks._

Maybe that was one of the problems with the whole project, having a non-human attempt to recreate a human. He had been doubtful early on, but the professor was convinced that he had a better sense for details that anybody else did.

His right hand kept scrolling while his left hand found its way into the first drawer under his table. It was the place he kept the swan on its poetry lake, a blue piece of paper with the poem he copied on it. It made him happy, so he stroked over its paper head a few times before turning off his program and turning towards the door. It was twelve and two zeros after all.

_The time Hoseok wanted to come._

He felt excited about kissing and even though the other man had mentioned the poetry he classified, that was something he felt excited about too. He had already drawn a small plan for himself in which he split the poetry classification and the kissing that he considered to be a highlight. He doubted that it could compete with the perfect whiteness of his mind from the night before, but it could turn off some of the flashlights around him, maybe even deactivate them for long enough to be able to breathe.

The agreement had been to make each other feel good and he was excited about having said the right thing for once.

_Because he told you what to say in the letter._

Several hours had passed and still he was curious about the reply to his letter, about whether his neighbour understood the situation he had tried to describe. Maybe there was even more advice he could listen to and learn from. Before, he wouldn't have ended up on a kissing date with a human.

_He helped you to be more human._

His fingers played a rhythm on his thighs as he kept staring at the door, waiting for Hoseok to appear. It was the agreed time, so there was no point starting anything else now.

There was a knock on his door and he had heard the steps beforehand, so it made a lot of sense. A few moments passed before the door opened and the human he had been waiting for appeared, greeting him and asking how he was before placing his laptop on the table and settling down on the second chair that he prepared with his legs spread.

_Small talk without a purpose, isn't it?_

"Are you usually at work early? I figured that I must've prevented you from going for lunch with your colleagues, I'm sorry about that," the low voice said, and he could see a brief smile on the handsome face.

He struggled to understand the connection between smiling and apologising, so he decided to play his usual program and answer questions while smiling back.

"Yeah, I'm usually in the office really early. You don't need to apologise though, I never go for lunch, neither with my colleagues, nor on my own. You're not keeping me from anything apart from working, which is okay because I'd much rather make out with you." As planned, he grinned and turned towards the laptop that was placed on his desk. "What did you want to show me?"

His attention refocused on the way the other man's prettily curved eyebrow raised, probably surprised by something he had said.

"You'd rather make out? I just wanted to share the progress and let you copy the database, but you can also sit on my lap if that's more exciting. I thought you were joking, but to be honest I really feel like making out with you because my ex assumes that's what I do every day, so it would be a major waste of thought to let her think that without actually having fun, what do you think?" Hoseok turned towards him, trying to catch his gaze as per usual.

_He thought it was a… joke?_

He blinked a few times, wondering which fallacy to address first. He was in public, so he couldn't just remain quiet and act. Language was important at work, so he had to figure it out and say the right thing. Preferably quickly.

"Hold up," he muttered and pushed himself away from the desk to turn properly and buy more time to make a choice. "You're telling me we don't have a kissing date, but you don't mind making it one because somebody thinks you are? That's- do you want to?"

Hoseok stared before his pretty lips changed into a smile that looked playful and very attractive. "A kissing date? Sounds cute. It's a bit complicated because my mind is still occupied with someone else, but I have an unhealthy curiosity towards you that I probably shouldn't try to satisfy, so isn't it better if we just try to see what our bodies think of being close? Mine was straightforward last time and I only stopped because I didn't know what you wanted. Tell me what you want, and I'll see if I can do it."

_That means he wants to, doesn't it?_

The playful expression was a good sign, so he mirrored it and used his left hand to close the other man's laptop as he stood up. He liked the way Hoseok's thighs looked when he stood above him and how pretty his face was despite his muscular body. His goal was to kiss and forget everything, but the man in front of him was also ridiculously attractive, enough to remind him of the difference between affection and arousal he kept wanting to determine.

_He's curious about you, but being close means, he's not acting on that curiosity?_

It didn't make sense, but he pretended that it did by reaching out for the firm shoulders and holding on as he climbed on top of the other man's lap. His legs were arranged on his side and spread to sit comfortably. The last question made the most sense and luckily, he had already learned an answer to it.

"I thought you wanted to make me feel good and feel good in return. Wasn't that the plan?" he whispered and curled his arms around the muscular neck. He was excited because even though he had kissed somebody just last night he already missed the way it silenced everything around him, even his own thoughts.

"Well, to be fair, you wanted to feel good and I asked what you could offer in return as it's a give and take, isn't it?" Before he could reply, those warm arms brushed over his thighs, his hipbones and sides before curling around his waist as he was pulled forward easily. Hoseok threw his head back and bared his neck, lips spread in a smile as he kept looking at him instead of finally kissing as he should have.

The sensation was pleasant and distracted him for a few seconds, but it wasn't enough yet.

_Does he want you to kiss his neck first?_

"It is," he murmured and closed his lips around a patch of skin below the other man's ear. He nibbled on it and made sure to use his tongue too because it had a slightly rough surface and felt good on sensitive areas. In addition, the wetness provided a cooling sensation after blowing on it. He had read all up on it before and made sure to combine all the sensations as he worked his way along the delicious neck. It tasted good and the fact that Hoseok asked a question with 'isn't it' helped him to pretend that he knew exactly what was going on. "Tell me what you want, and you'll get it. You're delicious."

"I like the way your body feels on top of me," the low voice said next to his ear, pulling him closer and having that hot mouth caressing his neck. "I just want it to be mutual. You'll touch me? I'll touch you too. Don't do anything to me that you don't want me to do to you. It's like a mirror game. You touch me the way you want to be touched and I'll follow. Deal?"

_Touch the way you want to be touched._

He blinked again, wondering how easily he could pull this off. This way he didn't have to guess, did he? Hoseok wanted him to act in a way he would towards himself, so it should be easy to act and get what he wanted. A kiss.

His fingers and toes curled in anticipation. The curved mouth was so close, and he wanted to touch it so badly, to let it erase his thoughts and make him think about nothing but the heat in his body and the lips against his.

"Deal," he breathed out before tightening his arms around the muscular neck and clashing their lips together, finally feeling the burning heat he had been yearning for.

***

_When the past_

_stretched its fingers right below your door_

_will you still hold them in silence?_

_knowing_

_they don’t feel right?_

He walked down the hallway at the university building and was only a few meters away from the farthest door as his phone vibrated with a notification. Thinking about it, he could’ve considered reading it later, but his fingers had already wrapped around the metal frame and he pulled the device out of the pocket of his black jeans. Maybe he shouldn’t have, because those words written out in a single text message made his heart beat faster, made him think and feel things he didn’t want to feel at all.

‘You’re not answering me. You know my number, don’t you? You could have called. My friends are asking about you, isn’t it a bit selfish? Or are you having fun with the guy from the wedding?’

He wanted to have fun. Hoseok wanted to have fun so badly instead of being caught in a triangle of emotional manipulation, affection and unhealthy curiosity. Probably it was his fault for failing to make a final decision regarding his past, for not taking any further steps, reconstructing the status quo of darkness and loneliness and maybe also for not asking the questions necessary to satisfy his curiosity enough to move on and have one corner less to worry about.

Truth was that he was on his way to share a database, but the truth was also that the other man had told him to come for a completely different reason. He wanted to kiss and be close to someone else entirely, so why was he here? Why was he standing in front of the door with his raised fist, ready to knock, knowing that there would probably be more to come? Was he greedy? Did he think it wasn’t enough? Was he trying to have more, knowing he would lose most because of how he was?

The truth was that the only thing he really had was chronic insomnia, a bunch of grey shirts in his old suitcase, no hope for the future whatsoever and right now, after having a meaningful encounter, he tried to calm himself down by having a meaningless one. Yes, he was working on barely two hours of sleep and yes, he made up a strategy to keep it safe for both of them and yes, he wanted to kiss the person behind the wall more because he felt understood and there was nothing more intimate than that, but still he was here.

How long would it take for him to destroy the intimacy they built, he wondered.

But then again, Hyungwon, that strangely handsome guy with big eyes and confusing behaviour had seen him at his worst moment, when the sky came crashing down on him and left him with nothing at all and that same person still wanted to see him and more. It seemed like his words became automatic, not focused on anything at all and tired of chasing the other man’s gaze that escaped him every time, but the straightforward reply, the display of interest made him refocus his attention.

He suggested, a deal as his thoughts circled around the letter that lay on his desk unopened because he couldn’t read without replying and there was no time, so he left it for later. What could it contain? Which words would he let run through himself this time, what things would the man behind the wall make him feel? He thought about all that before a hot mouth covered his own, kissing him intensely. His lip was pulsating a bit from the bruise from the night before and his arms were covered in scratches, but he liked it. It reminded him that their encounter had left a mark. That he hadn’t been the only one losing his mind.

Those lips slowly sucked the clarity out of him, turning his mind into a place that got warmer and warmer, forcing him to inhale more frequently and shift on the office chair and enjoy the way those thighs flexed around his hips. He let himself be kissed, as much as the man on top wanted to. He was supposed to have fun, wasn’t he? Why else wouldn’t he reply? Feeling wronged and mistrusted, thrown out and left wasn’t reason enough apparently, so fucking around with a guy who kicked his future into a void was the assumption that seemed most likely to the person he had wanted to spend his life with.

The bitterness felt like too much to take, so he leaned forward, licked into the warm mouth and pulled his phone out with his right hand, writing a reply with one eye open. ‘Yes’ it said without any explanation. He couldn’t access his pocket anymore, so he put the phone on the table and wrapped his arms around the person on his lap, trying to concentrate on the sensations and waiting for more to come.

The man on top of him appeared like he hadn't even realised his brief distraction, too busy kissing him with his plump mouth and teeth nibbling on his lips. Big hands roamed his body and grabbed a handful of his hair to improve the angle at which their tongues met. There was barely any air to breathe, but it didn't seem to matter as the moments their lips separated kept decreasing and the way the slim body moved on top of him became more and more desperate. A sudden hip roll pulled his attention from the mouth on his towards the obvious erection hidden beneath a pair of jeans and rubbing against his stomach.

He remembered their deal and used his arm to stabilize Hyungwon on his lap as he thrust against him as well as he could from his sitting position, licking his lips and still trying to catch that restless gaze. He couldn’t tell what it was that made him want to feel it once. It may have been the assurance that it was really him the other man wanted to be close to but then again, he had been thinking about someone else too, so who was he to judge?

Hyungwon moaned out loud, head thrown back instantly as if something as simple as a second of friction was enough to pull that sound from his lips. The arms around his neck tightened and the smooth hip roll repeated, this time with more focus but a little less coordination. Everything seemed so desperate and urgent about the man on top of him. A tug on his hair invited him to come closer, to taste the delicate neck.

Playing along, he grabbed a fistful too and pulled lightly, before closing his teeth around a patch of skin that had such a pleasant scent that he moaned before tasting it with his tongue. It reminded him of something he enjoyed, and he closed his eyes, inhaling and attempting to inhale more.

Again, there was a loud moan, this time breathier than before as fingers stroked over his hair and brushed over the tips of his ears before pausing on his shoulders. The touch was delicate, barely there as if applying too much pressure was going to break whatever it was that they shared.

"I like the way you make me feel," he heard close to his ear before arms wrapped tightly around his body and left no space between them, slim fabric-clad chest against his own.

He hummed, trying to suck in more of the scent by tilting his head and adjusting the pressure of his fingers according to how Hyungwon reduced his tension. “I love the way you taste,” he murmured, licking his lips in anticipation to taste more. “It’s like I’m familiar with it, but not nearly enough, so I want to inhale you.”

It was interesting how something that was supposed to be purely sexual turned out to be a very careful, adorable hug.

“You are a bit cute,” he chuckled lowly and stroked over the other man’s hair, inhaling its scent too. “And now truth time, you just wanted a kiss, didn’t you?”

A gasp sounded and when a pair of big eyes settled on his face, he almost gasped in return. But still he couldn't meet the other man's gaze, feeling it on his face, but not his eyes.

"I wanted to feel the way you make me," Hyungwon replied and held his breath for a few seconds. "Kissing can do that, but I know now that it's not enough."

“You want more?” he leaned further against the backrest and spread his legs, feeling some discomfort because of his tight jeans. “I’m curious.”

Those big eyes stared at him for a few moments, looking for something that he wasn't sure they found. Big hands roamed his shoulders and chest as the slim body slipped back on his thighs before finally slipping off. He expected that asking for more was about the end of it, but then Hyungwon suddenly sank to the floor in front of him, kneeling between his thighs.

The sight was so familiar and straightforward that he caught his own bottom lip, chewing on it to get rid of any sounds he might have been making, just because it seemed a thousand years ago that he had been touched.

“Mhm. Just don’t do anything you don’t want me to do to you afterwards. It’s a deal,” he commented, ready for the other man to change his mind any second as he glanced at the door, spotting the key that remained in the lock from the inside. He couldn’t risk somebody else’s job for his own pleasure.

The extreme urgency and desperation from before seemed to calm a little as Hyungwon stroked over his thighs and drew patterns on top of his jeans. The other man's gaze was focused on his groin and only rarely travelled to his face, as if it feared to remain there and get lost in the sight.

The anticipation of what was to come made him more sensitive towards each motion of fingers close to his groin, each stroke and caress that didn't provide friction yet, but was close enough to feel.

"More hands or more mouth?" Hyungwon asked suddenly before brushing over his clothed erection with his flat palm and unzipping his jeans. As if to show him the two options, the other man leaned in and licked over the fabric of his underwear before mouthing along his length towards the tip. He enjoyed the way it felt but he enjoyed the way it looked even more, as those full lips moved along his erection. Hyungwon had gorgeous lips.

_He has full lips too, doesn’t he? You never saw them, but they were so soft against yours._

“I could tell you the pro and cons, but instead I will remind you that you will get the same from me, so you decide what you feel more comfortable with. I’m looking forward to it either way,” he whispered and brushed over the other man’s arm that rested on top on his thigh, pulling him close enough to settle right between his legs.

He received a smile and a nod in return, getting whiplash from the dissonance between a plump mouth on his dick and the sweetness with which the other man answered him. Fingers quickly tugged at his underwear to pull it right below his length without bothering to take it off completely. The soft fingertips brushed over the tip, right where it felt good, but instead of applying pressure they stretched out and were held right next to his base instead of curling around it.

"You are really big," Hyungwon murmured, but didn't give him time to reply as he simply smiled and brushed his lips over his wet tip, back and forth a few times. "Good that I like to have big things in my mouth."

"That-" he wanted to say something but the sight of the plump lips around him and the sensation caught him off guard. Hissing quietly, he brushed from Hyungwon's shoulder to his neck before sinking his fingers into the silky hair that felt nice as he stroked through it. It felt like a different reality to have an admittedly very handsome man between his legs, pleasuring him.

"It might be slightly uncomfortable for oral, but apart from that it's pretty useful. At least nobody has complained yet," he muttered, trying to make a joke with his half assed thoughts that flew around his mind in fragments. "But you can complain of course, don't take any unnecessary discomfort, it can be quite a lot."

_You sound as if your brain stopped working. What a shame._

Hyungwon only hummed as if he made sense and finally tightened his lips around his tip, sucking with so much force out of nowhere that his thighs flexed, and he jerked a little.

"Too much?" Hyungwon asked immediately and bridged the time until his answer by rubbing his tongue into his slit. He was thankful for not accidentally kicking or hitting anybody because the sensation was way too intense for his taste. Observing the look on the other man's face, it seemed as if he wasn't as familiar with what he was doing there.

"Yeah. It's like with touching elsewhere, you wouldn't grab somebody first thing, right? You also stroked over my arm first and so on. It feels better if the increase in intensity is gradual. But I can surely try doing the same for you. I'm just a little concerned that you might hit me." Hoseok chuckled to loosen the atmosphere and wrapped his fingers around his length, stroking himself lazily. "You start off like that with yourself too, right? Slowly and then faster and more intense."

"I'm not sure because I tend to lose awareness when I feel pleasure," Hyungwon replied, but followed his remarks by letting his fingers dance over his thigh first and then wrap around his own. "Does it feel better with small hands or big hands? Yours don't really cover it."

"You lose awareness? Then you should make sure to be around somebody you trust when you feel pleasure. Are you sure you want to be next to me? You don't really know me." He glanced at their hands and chuckled because Hyungwon's had the size of two of his own. "If I'm alone, I use my hands, but I would be lying if I said it doesn't feel good to be touched by someone else." Uncurling his fingers, he wrapped them around the slim long ones that managed to curl around his base fully.

Suddenly, those big eyes were on him, staring right into his own for a split second before returning to his length and the warm hand that stroked over it.

"I know you. You're my saviour," Hyungwon murmured but didn't give him much of an opportunity to reply as he increased the speed of his strokes and used his tongue to provide small licks to his tip. It was enough to qualify as teasing and make him want to thrust upwards.

The words still circled in his mind, pulling a reply from the depth of his thoughts, but it was more a reply to himself.

Now, it was about being close and the person who was touching him wanted to be touched too and to feel pleasure. That's why they met and maybe they could exchange something without giving too much, feeling too much.

His body reacted so well to the touch and after some time he felt the crushing wave of an orgasm wash over him as he came with a low moan into the warm mouth, breathing heavily and slowly becoming aware of his own thoughts.

_How can you be a saviour?_

_If you can't even save_

_Yourself._

Leaning forward, he stroked over the black hair and observed the handsome man lick over his mouth, still tasting him.

"I really like how you made me feel. You're also giving me special kinds of thoughts. And now…" Hoseok pulled the other man from between his legs and exchanged their positions. "Would you like to sit or lie on the carpet?" he asked, reaching for the key in the lock and finally turning it.

Hyungwon seemed to think for a moment, gaze alternating between the chair and the carpet. "Here is okay," he replied eventually and smiled while leaning back and spreading his legs by throwing them over the armrests. "I like how you taste. You probably don't drink because it's not bitter at all. I also don't drink."

"I don't, and I'm looking forward to tasting you," he replied, brushing his palms over Hyungwon's firm thighs towards his groin, before undoing his zipper and leaning in to mouth his erection through his underwear, just like he experienced it a few minutes ago. "More hands or more mouth?"

Instead of receiving a reply there was a sudden, rough moan and hands that dug into the leather of the arm rests. Hyungwon's eyes were closed and his lips were parted, as if the brief touch of his lips, even through the fabric, was enough to steal every single coherent thought inside the other man's head. It must've been the lack of awareness Hyungwon had mentioned, but not only that. The sensitivity was pretty obvious and he tested it again by lifting the fabric and licking a strip from the base to the leaking tip.

"Oh my fucking god," Hyungwon whispered before repeating it again as a hiss and trembling on top of the office chair. The other man kept switching between trembling and flexing every single muscle in his body at once. It looked gorgeous, the pleasure that he could easily read from the blushed face and the goose bumps that he could see where Hyungwon's shirt had ridden up slightly and revealed a smooth path towards his navel. Hoseok felt regretful that he couldn't stroke over the warm skin because he hadn't received a similar touch, but instead focused on making the sensations as pleasant as possible. Sensitivity was a blessing, but one needed a lot of patience and awareness to not overdo it and turn it into discomfort.

He placed kisses on Hyungwon's groin and travelled up his base until finally arriving at the top and trying to tease the fine slit with the tip of his tongue. His hands were keeping those thighs in place and checked for feedback on oversensitivity.

Hyungwon confirmed the need to hold onto his thighs as he kept pushing against his grip or suddenly spreading them wider. The red marks that the armrests left on the smooth skin went unnoticed by the beautiful man who kept throwing his head from side to side and moaned in that low voice of his, loud enough to be concerned about the thickness of the walls. Fingers scratched over the leather until they reached his arms and held onto them instead, applying pressure whenever he must have sent a wave of pleasure through the slim body.

"Please," he heard suddenly, voice low and breathy as Hyungwon tugged at his arms but didn't elaborate on what he wanted. "Please, Hoseok."

Hearing his name felt different, especially considering the lack of awareness the man on the chair has mentioned. He liked how it sounded and closed his lips around Hyungwon's length, gradually letting it enter his mouth and further, all the way until he knew he couldn't breathe.

The following whimper and trembling thighs were worth it, shaking against his grip as Hyungwon desperately gasped for air and his words became scrambled, indecipherable. It must've felt so good, so he repeated it, faster, tightening his lips more and applying more pressure on his way up.

A sudden burning that began at his inner elbows and spread towards his wrist confirmed how good it must have felt. Good enough for Hyungwon to be unaware of where his hands were or what they were doing. Nail marks remained on his skin as he observed the other man repeatedly hold his breath and not move, as if it felt too intense but he didn't want it to stop either.

The rough breaths became more desperate and frequent, echoing through the room along with fragments of words. Moans, parts of his name, whispers for more, begs, even almost screams. They kept getting louder and louder until the firm body suddenly froze in place and stopped breathing as liquid spilled between his lips. The silence stretched for several seconds until it was filled with desperate attempts to return oxygen and all the tension disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. Had Hoseok not been holding on to Hyungwon's thighs, he might have slipped down the chair.

It felt intense to have seen such a reaction with his own eyes and his own body considered it very arousing. He wanted to think about it more, but among Hyungwon's desperate inhales, there were steps behind the wall, coming closer to the door.

Fuck.

His mind worked furiously, and he lifted one hand to place it on Hyungwon's mouth and reached for the light switch next, covering the room in complete darkness.

He managed to lift silently and stop right next to the warm ear that smelled so good and it felt strange somehow. It felt strange not to see. "There's someone coming, so shhh."

Hyungwon didn't reply, but he heard him suck air into his lungs roughly and keep it there, reducing the sounds around them to a minimum. However, the other man didn't remain on the chair and simply wrapped his whole body around him, face buried in his neck.

"Keep me safe," the low voice breathed out suddenly, lips hot against his neck. "Please."

Something seemed off, like a parallel reality, the darkness and a person wrapped around him, that scent playing in his nose and suggesting there must be more, the low voice breathing short words into his ear desperately. It wasn't night and he wasn't at home and the voices outside kept laughing and talking about how Dr. Chae probably went to the bathroom because he never goes anywhere else, but he remained in place and felt enveloped in the kind of warmth that only trust could make you feel. Trust from another person given to you just like that.

"I will," he whispered, stroking over the silky hair and pulling the man next to him even closer to himself. "I promise."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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CHAPTER 8

_“But if you're my Alien, then who am I to you?"_

_"You? You're my saviour."_

_

If there was something that he had learned over the years, it was that pretence aided him in reaching his goals. It helped him to get an education, to finish his doctorate and finally to get a decent job that he enjoyed. All those things had only been possible because of pretence and because of the rules he had learned by heart.

_The rules that humanity isn't aware of but follows subconsciously._

The cost of being different was loneliness and the more time passed, the more natural that state became. The longer he pretended and fell apart at home afterwards, the unlikelier meeting somebody before he turned twenty-five became. It was a simple calculation. If he had eight hours of pretence every day and used all of them at work, then there were none left to help him find a partner.

The equation was so easy to observe, especially now that he was at work, but hadn't used up all his pretence. As if to show him the effort he needed to be with a human, the possibility to be close came to him all on its own, sitting on a chair in front of him and staring at him with black eyes. It wasn't just a possibility and it also wasn't just a human. It was his saviour.

_But even saviours have expectations._

The promise was still there, between them, but he wasn't naive enough to assume that it wasn't going to require pretence. Everything did, like a currency that humans had in abundance and he had to earn through several hours of sleep.

He pretended to understand all the words that Hoseok was speaking, agreed to his terms and nodded along when it seemed to be a good moment to do so. He followed a rulebook, one that he had studied to be able to satisfy a human and thereby pretend to be one in return. Each step was clearly defined, but he had been impatient and acted too quickly, too curious to know how Hoseok tasted instead of taking it slow.

_That's why you must follow the rules._

He enjoyed the sounds that his hands and lips were able to produce, how repetitive but still pleasurable the steps were. The breathy moans were enjoyable and so was the texture of the thickness between his lips. He had imagined it before, but as always, his imagination hadn't been able to portray it accurately. Being close was more thoughtful when he wasn't drowning in pleasure, more focused and much more aware of what he was doing.

Still, the constant sounds and sensations were able to overshadow his surroundings, calming him down and making the whole experience addicting all the same. Even when he swallowed and smiled at the way the man in front of him recovered from orgasm, he couldn't help but anticipate the next time he was going to do it.

_You enjoy pleasing him, the way your hands and lips move in a regular manner._

The calm and awareness stayed with him for several moments as he climbed on top of the chair and spread his legs, excited for what was about to come. It seemed like his mind had erased his memories of what it was like to lose himself, to turn off all those lights inside his mind like through a sudden blackout.

_As if you cannot imagine that bliss anymore._

As soon as hands touched him, and a mouth nibbled along his clothed length, he was unaware of the position of his hands and legs, of the humming of his computer, of the brightness of the room. He wasn't aware of anything apart from the pleasure beginning at his groin and spreading out through his whole body, clouding his mind. The lack of sensations apart from one was addicting, like a tunnel that everything had to pass through and that only left pleasure while banning everything else.

He didn't know how long it lasted or what exactly happened, whether his hands were holding onto the armrests or the other man, but in the end the brightness took over his vision, colouring it white for a few seconds until it was suddenly over.

Painful throbbing in his thighs, scratch marks that he must have left himself, his heart beating loudly in his ears, but not loud enough to overshadow the humming of his computer, the ticking of a clock, steps outside and voices. All of it seemed so loud, like a magnifier that was attached to his ear and made him wince with every single sound. Everything seemed so unfamiliar, everything apart from the person in front of him.

Sucking as much air into his lungs as he could, he wrapped his whole body around Hoseok and held on, begging him to keep him safe. To be his saviour just as he had promised.

The sounds continued, but being so close, he could barely hear them, not above the regular breaths that left Hoseok's lips and the rapid beating of his heart, badum, badum, badum.

He counted fifteen beats when the other man finally spoke, whispering his reply. "I will," he said, "I promise."

_He promised._

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he thought of the small piece of paper that he kept safe inside his treasure box, slightly wrinkled but still as true as ever. He imagined the words appearing on the paper, joining the ones that had been written there before.

"Because you're my saviour," he whispered back and pressed his lips to the warm skin, attempting to focus on it and on the rapid heartbeats. He didn't want to hear or feel anything else, not if it meant that all the lights had to turn back on.

"Do you think that I am?" the low voice asked, but those arms didn't loosen around him and the light was still off. "What is it that I'm saving you from?"

"Loneliness," he replied immediately and lifted his head just enough to brush his lips over the soft texture of Hoseok's skin, back and forth repeatedly. It was calming. "And myself."

"How can I save you if I can't even save myself?" there was a low chuckle that made him feel warm. "Why do you need me to save you from yourself?"

_Does he not know?_

He remained quiet at first, waiting to see if the other man was going to remember. As the sensations around him became bearable, his awareness also returned, reminding him that humans expected replies to their questions.

"If you save me from loneliness," he began and let his fingers travel over Hoseok's arms, "won't I be saving you from loneliness too?"

He remained silent about the second question. What if Hoseok really didn't know anymore? What if he had forgotten who he was, what he was?

"But I'm so good at running away from people who get close enough to see my need to be saved carved into the way I smile. If I could, I wouldn't be here right now, but you see I still am, so I can't be saved." The body around him shifted a bit and Hoseok moved back, taking him along to the carpet where he settled on top of the warm thighs. "There is something about you that I fail to understand, and it drives me crazy that I can’t, so I keep coming back and looking for it, but your gaze disappears just like that without a trace no matter how hard I try."

He chuckled, suddenly realizing something as he leaned back and cupped Hoseok's face, gaze fixated on the vague shape of his lips that he could recognise in the dark.

"Maybe that's because I'm also very good at running away from people who get close enough to meet my gaze."

"Who do you think can run faster? I think I can. I like the sound of your voice and I like the way you taste but I still don't know why you came to my wedding and why you did what you did. I don't want to ask and now I need to go back home because there's something waiting for me. I'll come another time to let you copy the database. Do you think it would be okay?" Hoseok shifted again and the warmth left him just like that as he heard steps and feared that the lights would turn on and make him feel so overwhelmed that the other man would see it.

He nodded, simply hoping that it would be enough for Hoseok as he wrapped his arms around his torso and held his breath, begging for his senses not to overload him. He had needed the touch and the contact, but now it was going to be gone just like that.

_Even though he promised._

He heard those fingers wrap around the handle instead of touching the light switch and the low voice spoke quietly.

"Do you like the darkness, Hyungwon?" it asked.

"It makes me feel alive," he replied quietly, begging for it to stay without letting the silence get too loud, loud enough to realise that he was alone.

"Me too," Hoseok said, only audible to him, turned the key and slipped out of the door, letting as little light in as possible and saying his goodbyes with the quick steps that he heard endlessly it seemed, endless until they simply disappeared.

They disappeared and left him all by himself.

_Even though he promised._

***

_Are you insane?_

_to kiss a stranger in the dark_

_When there’s no light_

_pretending that you are_

_the one he thinks you are._

_A saviour._

Time felt like a thick fog that was circling around him slowly, stopping randomly as it encountered objects that caught its attention, like the pens he kept in the old brown cup, one of the rings on his binder that had a few rusty spots, the letter that still lay in front of him as he waited for his thoughts to become clear again. Clear after the confusing experience in Hyungwon's office. He shouldn’t have been confused about anything, because the facts remained the same, no matter what happened, but he knew how much a single thing, a single thought, a fragment, a word, could change when the darkness spread around it, enveloped it, gave it a different meaning, a different feeling.

_You can’t stop thinking about his scent._

He should’ve been honest, he knew he should have, but how could he start with a thought that belonged to somebody else, that didn’t concern the person that existed next to him on the other side of the wall? How could he write that he was thinking of how someone else smelled, how he couldn’t get enough of it, how it confused him and stole his thoughts. Was it okay to do? What if the man he could be the most honest with stopped talking to him? He couldn’t risk it.

It wasn’t deep night yet, only midnight and the moon threw that typical silverish grey shadow on everything that stood in its way, giving every object a certain worth because it existed as the moon did, so beautiful and clear. Seeing the moon in its full bloom, he remembered that maybe he needed to hear that low voice again to finally return to the clarity that he missed. The shower hadn’t helped either, so there was only one solution left.

Wrapping the bathrobe tighter around himself, he wrote a brief note that said ‘I’m behind your door. I need to hear your voice today if it’s alright with you,’ and walked to his apartment door. He didn’t want to be locked out in a bathrobe only, so he took his extra key and put it into the fluffy pocket, right next to the letter he wanted to reply to. His steps sounded loud, as if he was disturbing the peace and quiet of the world around him with his restless existence, but that thought was very close to the truth, so he let it be and smiled briefly, thinking about the times when it first started. When he stopped sleeping.

It had been so different back then. It felt different and he was a different person at that time, feeling punished and restless, thinking and overthinking again as the clock changed numbers, one two, one three, one four. He had counted the decreasing hours and then minutes until he had to wake up again. Then he would cry and wish he was dead just to not have to be awake all the time. All of that seemed so long ago, even though the night still didn’t let him sleep. Now, instead of viewing it as a plague, he felt that it was the only time he could really be himself. No-one knew, and no-one saw. No-one apart from the person that lived behind the door that he just pushed the note under. The quick motion was purposeful, to not fuel the longing to feel each other again. He was here to talk.

The wall felt rough against his back as he slid down to sit next to the door and listen to the steps and breaths that he could almost feel against his skin. There was no such intensity where there was light. It wasn’t comparable. Maybe he shouldn’t have turned off the lights in the office.

“Are you tired?” he asked and angled his wrist to place his fingers under the door, feeling too weak to bear the lack of touch.

"Mmh," the voice behind the door replied and he heard the other man rest his head against the thin wood. "I used up all my strength and, in the end, there is only me left. Will that be enough for you?"

"I came to be with you, so you are the only thing I need. Will I use up more of your strength? I want to be a superhero and give you all that energy back," he said, stroking over the carpet that had been placed in front of the other man's door.

"A superhero?" He heard a chuckle and the sound was so pleasant to his ears that he held the air in his lungs for a few seconds more to not disturb it. "I'd like that. Somehow you don't take away my strength, but I still don't know how you do that."

“I guess because you can’t see my face and usually don’t have to talk to me either. I didn’t want to disturb your peace, but today, I feel like I really need to hear your voice. It helps better than a shower does, and it isn’t raining.” He shifted and leaned against the wood too, feeling closer that way as he could hear every single motion of the body on the opposite side of the door. “I like the sound of your voice. Should I reply to your letter like this? Would you like that?”

"Y-yeah," the other man replied, voice a little breathy. "I like your voice too. I just don't know if I can remain quiet. I have barely any energy left to be human, but maybe I don't have to be when it's with you."

“What if I told you that you can be whatever you want to be with me? Would you feel free to do that, or would you still try to think about what I expect from you?” He chuckled too and rubbed his head against the wood, making sounds with his slightly wet hair that the man behind the door might consider too loud. “I don’t expect anything and that’s why I came to sit in front of your door. I just want to be next to you right now.”

"I want to be next to you too. I really do." The words were no louder than an exhale and sounded genuine, spoken with a certain care he had learned to recognise as the other man's voice. He heard fingers dance along the doorframe before finally stroking over the wood. "I tell you so many things that I don't tell humans. Your hair… it's wet, right?"

_Can he hear that too?_

“I also think that I don’t resemble a human sometimes. When everything and everyone is asleep, but I am not, and people get tired and yawn and I am the only one who doesn’t. My hair is wet. I tried showering first before I made the decision to come to your door. Your carpet feels nice. I’m wondering how it feels to lie on it.”

He couldn't see the other man smile, but somehow the way he exhaled and shifted sounded like he was. "It's fluffy," the low voice replied, and the smile became even more apparent. "It calms me down when nothing else does. When… when I come home from work I just lie on it for at least an hour, thinking about nothing at all. Maybe your shower is like my carpet. Usually it helps, but sometimes… yeah."

“Your carpet is lucky to have so much attention from you,” he chuckled and drew circles on the soft fabric absentmindedly. “I’m somebody who is always aware, thinking and overthinking, but because of that, I sometimes struggle to pull myself out of thoughts or to make final decisions on something like ending relationships, making further steps, or leaving.” Sighing, his fingers took hold of the edge of his bathrobe, stroking over it to distract himself. “What would you do right now if I wasn’t sitting here, talking to you and making you talk?”

"I would be lying on my bed," the other man replied immediately, as if there was no need to think about it. "I would be lying on my bed with my ear against the wall to listen. There is so much to hear, and the sounds are calming, even if they weren't before. By now all of them mean something and I look forward to them too, like they are a part of my world now. But-"

He heard shifting followed by more caresses of fingers against the door. "But I like sitting here with you even more. Even if I must talk, because no matter what I say, you don't call me weird or tell me to stop."

"I don't want you to stop. I keep thinking about what might disappoint or hurt you, so that I can avoid behaving that way, but I simply don't know, so I'm always a bit worried. I don't think you're weird. I think you're amazing." Again, he chuckled because he sounded like a middle schooler confessing his affection like an idiot unable to use the right words. "You're the only reason I haven't left yet."

"Please don't leave." The words were sudden, but the sensation of warm fingers against his butt surprised him even more. The other man was applying pressure, but not enough to hurt him, as if he was simply afraid of him standing up and leaving right this instant."I'm always afraid of doing the wrong thing. I didn't know humans feel that way too. I thought you always know what to say to make other people like you. At least most of the time."

Smiling to himself, he stuck his hand under the door until he felt the warm fingers. "You pinched my butt which is kind of funny. I know what I want to say, but it doesn't mean it's the things people want to hear, you know? I could say something that I don't mean to make another person be friendly with me, but it's like building a shadow of yourself because you know so well that it's not you and you would say something completely different if you were free to do so. I tried behaving in a way that enabled me to settle down with another person, but the outcome only showed me that there can't be anything real in a relationship built through a shadow of yourself. But I still read those messages even though they make me want to throw my phone away. I'd much rather lie on your carpet with you with your leg between mine."

This time it was silent for several moments and he wondered if he had managed to make the man behind the door uncomfortable by sharing too much.

"I'm not sure I understand," the low voice murmured eventually. "I don't know what messages you received and why they made you feel bad. But I know what it's like to build a shadow of yourself. I think that's what living on this planet means for me. Even if I try to make people like me, it's hard no matter how much effort I put into it. I'm sad that you also feel this way because it's terrible. It's really terrible, but… if you think that my carpet could make you feel better, then I would love to share it with you."

"To be honest, it's more you than the carpet, but I cherish it because it makes you feel better. I guess it's like when you go out in the rain to understand how I'm feeling." He breathed for a few moments without saying anything either before finally deciding to share. "I get messages from a person I loved but who told me to leave. That's why I'm here. It's a bit hard to hear mean things from somebody you really care about. It's terrible to feel lonely too. I want to make you feel less lonely. Do you think I might be able to?"

The warm fingers turned to wrap around his, squeezing once as the silence stretched between them. The seconds passed and the quiet helped him to recognise sounds he hadn't been aware of before. The rustling of fabric as the other man moved, his inhales as he prepared to speak and the motion of wood as he leaned against the door.

"You already are, because you are here with me." The voice remained low and pleasant to the ear, as if the other man attempted to stay quiet even though there was a door separating them. "That person… they are bad for hurting you like that, for telling you to leave even though you like them. I'm not sure I can imagine what that feels like, because I can't imagine things well, but if I think of you telling me to leave, then it makes me want to cry. The type of crying where you- sob very hard and cannot talk at all."

He could hear the effect the words had, how the man behind the door began speaking a little slower because his voice became emotional and forced him to pause and regain his composure.

"I don't want you to leave. I want to kiss you because I keep forgetting how your lips feel and how your body feels in my arms. I want to hold you and imagine that you don't feel lonely like that because I don't." He enjoyed the touch of those warm hands and the longing was almost unbearable to him, but this time he couldn't act on it, so the boundary became clear. He had to be satisfied with the surface of the wooden door and a brief touch against his fingertips.

"Why is kissing so different with you? I just don't understand." The comment seemed sudden, like a realization that the other man came across only now and tried to give context to. "I kiss, and the sensation is perfect because I feel and hear nothing but the kiss, but with you it isn't just about the nothing that I wish to feel, the nothing that makes me feel safe and like myself. Maybe even alive. With you… there are so many thoughts in my head, mostly about what you are doing, what you are thinking and how I could possibly find out. Of course, there aren't that many when we are close because I lose awareness, but until then it's not only the feeling that I'm waiting for, but the person providing it. Does that make sense?"

"I like you," he murmured, overwhelmed by the other man's description of how it felt to be close to him. "I like you a lot, and every single word, every letter, every sound behind the wall makes me excited to know more about you."

"You like the me behind the wall?" He could hear the hesitation in the question, as if it was something impossible. "But… that's really just me. There's nothing human about the me behind the wall. I didn't show you anything likeable, anything funny or flirty. I haven't done any of those things humans do to be liked, so… why?"

"You're special and you make me happy. Of course, I could come up with many little things that are you and add to my sentiment, but do you really need to know them? I like it so much that you were honest from the first words I read and that you continued sharing all those details about yourself with me. I love every single one of them, even though you don't know the way my eyebrows rise when I think someone is being bold or what my genuine smile looks like because I show my gums, even though you don't know, you still sit behind the door and talk to me. It's midnight and you like going to bed early because you need the energy, but still, you're here."

"I am," the other man replied, but didn't speak further, allowing the silence to stretch between them. The fingers intertwined with his own were shaking a little, but he couldn't tell if it was due to a positive or negative emotion.

"Would you like to go to bed now? If you make it dark, I can kiss you good night," he whispered, cheek pressed against the wooden door in an attempt to feel more of the person behind it.

There was silence, but he heard the light switch as the thin line of light disappeared from under the door and left both of them in the dark. He also heard the other man stand up and carefully press down the door handle, standing right in front of him.

"I'm sorry for not saying anything," the low voice whispered suddenly. "I'm scared because I don't know what this means. I've never been able to be anything but honest, so I usually stay silent, but you say you like it and- and nobody ever liked it before."

He scrambled himself up from the itchy doormat and reached for the doorframe to not accidentally trip. He could see a silhouette, but it was so much more than he could have hoped for. He stepped closer and wrapped his right arm around the other man's waist, pulling him closer. The scent was addicting.

"I like you," he whispered as quietly as possible to not disturb the darkness and the silence around them. "I do, but I don't want to scare you. I simply wanted to be honest with you. I'll kiss you good night and leave, I promise."

"But what if I'm not like that person?" the other man murmured and wrapped his lean arms around his neck, embracing him tightly with lips brushing over his jaw. "What if I don't want you to leave?"

"Then I will stay until my head comes up with some scary scenario and I will leave all by myself to prevent imaginary damage. Sounds complicated, right? It's like a push and pull with you but instead of you, I'm playing it with myself." It must've been way too complicated and without context, so he shook his head and started over. "I missed your scent, I want to drown in it."

The warm body was so close to him and he leaned in, burying his nose in the crook of the soft neck, lips tasting some of the skin. It was delicious and addicting and right now he was a bit thankful to his panic mode, making him stop eventually.

"I don't understand," the plump lips whispered into his ear, reminding him of the intimacy they could have shared, but didn't. "You wanted to promise to leave after kissing me goodnight. Can't you… promise to stay instead? Even if it's not right here in front of me, then at least close enough to hear you breathe when I close my eyes?"

"To be very honest with you, people can't promise anything because they change, and their feelings change and after some time they aren't the people who made the promise, so it's meaningless. I'd much rather not promise anything at all and tell you exactly how I feel. Right now, I feel like staying and kissing you, but I might get scared like last time. You might want to stay and kiss me more, but what if the heat subsides and you find me lying in your bed awkward and uncomfortable? Feelings change, but I really… I really like you, special person. And I have felt this way for a while now, no matter whether I'm kissing you or reading your letters or listening to you doing your routine in the morning."

He leaned back a little and wrapped both arms around the slim waist. "I'm going to kiss you goodnight and go back. I still have to write my reply to you. The talking doesn't count," he whispered and cupped the soft face with his hands before lifting on his tiptoes because his neighbour was pretty tall and kissing those big, plump lips.

There was no reply and the man in front of him didn't deepen their kiss the way he had before. No urgency followed, no attempts to have him even closer and no limbs that dizzily wrapped around him. Only the arms around his neck and the slight pressure against his lips told him that the touch was welcome, until it suddenly ended. Fingers stroked over his hair and neck, but still the other man didn't say a single word.

_You must've said something wrong._

He didn't say anything because there was no point if there was too much of the silence. Sometimes words created even more of it, so he reached for the doorframe and stepped back into the cool staircase, walking towards his own apartment and holding the small key tightly as if it would save him, or turn back time, or do whatever it was that would help him to stop feeling like being a shadow was the better choice.

***

_Promises are meaningless._

_They are meaningless. Meaningless. Mean-ing-less._

The word repeated inside his mind, starting out slowly before getting quicker and quicker. It seemed like his mind was attempting to decipher every bit of meaning the word had to offer, every component, every morpheme. He needed to know what it was that hid behind the word 'meaningless’.

_It means that they carry no meaning, no weight, nothing that suggests they need to be fulfilled._

The thought was a terrifying one, one that didn't apply to him. How could a promise be meaningless if it was the single most reliable thing that one could receive from a human? A promise wasn't breakable, and he could have never even dared attempt it.

_But he said promises are meaningless._

His fingers were trembling and even though there had been warm lips against his own just a moment ago, he couldn't feel them anymore. The air around him felt icy and even the fluffy carpet under his feet couldn’t provide any warmth. His whole body was shaking, but it couldn't have been the temperatures, so it must have been his thoughts.

_Promises are meaningless._

He shook his head to try to get rid of the thought, but it didn't work. Those three words kept repeating, no matter how much he tried to think about the kiss and the sweet scent of cherries instead.

That one sentence had so many consequences, ways in which his perception of the world was ripped into shreds. It couldn't be that the one thing he relied on for all those years didn't mean anything in the end.

If it was true, if promises were meaningless to humans, then that meant…

_That there is no saviour for you._

His eyes burned, and he gasped for air, sinking to the floor and desperately attempting to feel for his carpet. Soft texture slipped in between his fingers and he held his breath to contain the tears. It couldn't be true, because he had the promise. He had the promise with a signature, with all the letters intact and a meaning so clear even he was able to understand it. It couldn't be meaningless, not after years of waiting and hoping.

_Maybe it's just spoken promises, spoken promises about feelings._

Finally, an exhale and subsequent inhale allowed more oxygen into his lungs. That must be the solution. Written promises were different, they had different words and were about different things. His neighbour had said that humans' feelings changed and therefore they as people changed and weren't the people that made the promise anymore.

_But your promise wasn't about feelings, so it must be true. It cannot be meaningless._

He rubbed over his eyes and kept them closed for a few long seconds, attempting to calm himself until soft steps suddenly caught his attention. They stopped right in front of his door and he could see the outline of a white letter being placed on his carpet.

_It's the reply to your letter._

Excitement took over and he instantly crawled towards the door to be able to brush over the other man's fingers, share a little bit of intimacy in the way that they were able to.

"Thank you," he whispered, but didn't elaborate. There were many reasons for being thankful. The other man was able to explain the situation to him, maybe tell him when exactly promises were meaningless and why he didn't make any. For people like him promises were crucial, the only way to be sure about something.

He felt the warm fingertips against his and the low voice whispering 'good night' almost right into his ear before he heard the steps again, the door, the bed.

_He didn't stay._

At first, he felt disappointed that the sensation was gone just like that, but it must have been his fault. Why else would the other man leave immediately if he had wished to listen to his voice before that?

_You must have done something, lost yourself and him._

He couldn't even feel the warmth of lips against his own anymore, so how could the other man want to stay next to him? Not when he was being like this, even less human than before.

Chewing on his lips to distract from the unpleasant burning in his chest, he quickly unfolded the letter and started reading.

'I just returned after kissing you and usually there would've been a mixture between arousal and affection, but it was just deep genuine affection for me. And the fear that I've said something hurtful.

You said you don't know why I keep apologizing. It's because I'm scared that I might miss the moment I behave in a way that hurts you. It's new for me to abandon my shadow next to someone else completely, so there's a lot of fear I must deal with.

It happens that I feel many things at once, I am on the other side of the spectrum from you, suffering from too much awareness and taking in every detail with all available senses, so I remember the way your muscles flexed under my fingertips, how you twitched between my lips, your nails scratching my arm, my own arousal burning and that it pulled in an almost unbearable way when you came, how your voice sounded. So low and attractive.

I really want to feel it all again.

I was excited to know that you like artificial intelligence. I’m currently working on a project in that field and I still have the swan you made for me. I often look at it when you're sleeping and I'm not because it's the only thing I have from you apart from the letters and your shirt that I washed because it was wet. It doesn't have your scent, so it lost its value for me. I'll return it with the letter.'

He immediately lifted his gaze towards the door, wondering how he could have missed the familiar black fabric that rested right next to where the letter had been.

_You're been too focused on touching his hands for as long as you were able to._

He reached out and pulled the shirt closer to his face, inhaling the scent of the detergent that his neighbour used. It also reminded him of cherry, even if it wasn't that strong.

The other man had been upset about not smelling his scent, but that was something that could easily be changed. Smiling, he pulled the shirt he was wearing over his head and folded it nicely next to the spot where the letter had been. The other man didn't know it was there, but he was going to receive it along with the answer to his letter. It was late already, the alarm clock showed a zero, zero, zero and seven. Usually he would have been in bed already, staring at the ceiling and listening to the silence.

_But it's been a long time since you did that._

Now it wasn't the silence he listened to and excitement bubbled up in his chest as he slipped out of the rest of his clothes and hurried to the bedroom. His fingers were still holding onto the letter as he lay down on his mattress and listened to the brief screeching of the bed, a rustling of sheets and then finally the sound of inhales and exhales, regular, but not like those of somebody who was sleeping.

_It calms you down so much._

Only a moment ago he had been just about to breakdown, but now, listening to those breaths he felt so calm. Holding his breath, he reread the letter from the beginning, mostly because he enjoyed the way those descriptions were able to make him feel. There was a mixture he couldn't quite place, too complicated to match to what he had been taught about human emotions. Arousal was the only one he could recognise easily.

_His words make you want to touch him._

'You said you say upsetting things you don't mean, that's actually what scares me the most because there's no way to know how the words change meaning in another person's mind and I can't figure out yours and keep being scared that I might hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. I want to be your robot who makes you feel less lonely, but who has a bug and doesn't only do the things you programmed it to do. I don't want to be a shadow of myself next to you. That's why I keep turning off the light.

Thank you for explaining how you felt and that the sensations turn too loud and intense. Is there a way I could help you if you feel that way? Is there something that you would like me to do? I want to learn it.

Your grandma taught you many useful things and I can still remember her beautiful smile when she told me that it was your birthday. She loves you a lot and I can understand her very well because you are lovable.

You know, I keep thinking about the way you kissed me just now and I'm wondering if my thoughts come from the fact that I only know one way of interpreting a certain behaviour. Namely lack of reaction. When do you show lack of reaction? If you don't like something? Or are there also different reasons? Is there something you need me to do when you feel like that? Leave? I really want to learn to read you. You know I love words and the ones that I associate with you make me happy and excited.

I will keep all the little things about you safe, locked inside my mind. Don't worry. I don't know about leaving, I can't say anything because sometimes the suitcase just stares at me and I feel like I need to, but then you push a letter under my door and my resolve crumbles. It's the same game all over again. You are the reason I'm here.

Missing

Every little thing

That's you.

Wondering

How you gave it all

Knowing my need

When I didn't.

  1. S. You are the only person who noticed my existence. It might not seem like a lot, but to me it is. I don't regret saying that I like you because my shadow would've never said it. H.'



He swallowed, still staring at the letter in front of him and the brief poem that the man behind the wall had written for him. Usually they were so difficult to understand, but somehow there seemed to be one person that knew how to arrange them to help him understand. He couldn't be sure that he understood it all, but it seemed like he was able to grasp the feeling, the desire to go to the door next to his and wrap his arms around the man behind it. He wanted to hold him until that need was satisfied and there was no reason to miss anymore. Simply because it wasn't gone in the first place.

The light that was still turned on in the kitchen was just enough illumination to find a pen and paper on his desk. He couldn't tell what colour it was, but he drew a few hearts in the corner nevertheless. If he didn't know, there was no way to be worried that the colour portrayed the wrong feeling. Like with roses, one had to give the right one or people got upset.

He chewed on the back of his pencil for a bit before finally finding the right words to share.

'Both of us keep worrying about making mistakes, is there no way to stop it? Is it a human thing that the words 'don't worry' have no consequence? Just by saying something, we're not able to bring about an effect. It must happen on the inside too.

I think that is why we need promises. Without promises humans just lie and keep telling distortions of the truth, but as long as they must promise, they aren't able to go against it. Promises are important and you saying that they are meaningless scares me.

If promises didn't have a meaning, then there would be nothing for me to believe in.

You like artificial intelligence, really?'

He couldn't help a giggle because that still made him so happy. There was so much he could share and explain and help the other man understand.

'I find it so fascinating! Someday I want to create a human, a robot so human that it's impossible to tell. I feel like as soon as I achieve that I will understand humans a little better.

Thank you for giving back my shirt. Sometimes I think of a piece of clothing that I own and if I can't find it I get anxious. It's different when I know where it is though. I like the scent of your detergent, but since you were sad that it doesn't smell like me, I decided to give you one that does. It should smell like me a lot because I lay on the carpet in it instead of immediately taking it off. I hope you like it that way.'

He thought back to the shirt that he prepared and suddenly worried about the colour. Plain was fine, wasn't it? At least it corresponded to the night that his neighbour lived for.

'You know,' he began while trying to make his letters look better, 'I find it strange that you also worry about what might be happening inside my head. Is that because I'm not human? My grandma always said that it's easy to know what other people are thinking if you have enough experience, but somehow, I never manage to get enough of it to figure it out. You say that you're also not sure, so maybe I'm not the only one who's lacking experience.

I wish I could explain to you what happens inside my head, but most of the time I don't know either. There's discomfort when I start to think about it or try to focus on my feelings. Maybe I can try to explain what I need when things get too loud though. Most of the time I try to hide and make things quiet by pressing my hands flat against my ears and squeezing my eyes shut. The less sensations there are the better, or one big sensation that removes all others. You were so good at giving me that, so good that I fear that I'm addicted now, thinking about nothing else.'

Again, he paused, rereading the letter he received and wondering about how he had reacted.

_You barely remember the kiss, because you weren't there._

He knew that he behaved strangely for a human, but what had been the trigger? He looked around his room for clues, finding nothing but books and clothes that he had discarded on the floor. His eyes kept roaming until they scanned over what he had written until now, each single word.

_Promises. He told you they are meaningless._

'You asked about lack of reaction and I'm sorry for treating you this way. Usually I'm not even aware that it happens because my mind is occupied with something else. It's another sign that I'm not human. There are certain things that seem to make my brain' he paused, looking for the right word, 'turn off.'

'It's as if somebody pressed the wrong button or moved a critical lever. Every thought suddenly stops apart from the last one that keeps repeating endlessly inside my mind. You said that human promises are meaningless and after that my mind couldn’t move on, repeating it endlessly until I felt like rolling up and crying on my carpet. You probably don't want to hear stuff like that, but I can't think of anything that's worse than promises being meaningless.

Nothing apart from you leaving.

I'm glad that I know the real you, the you that hides behind the shadow. And somehow you also know the real me, the one who pretends to be human everyday only to fall apart at the end of the day. I never thought I would be able to use so many words to express my thoughts, but you make it possible.

If writing is what I need to do to keep you, then I will never stop.

P.S. I want you to kiss me again because I barely remember the way it felt, only how scared I was of broken promises, H.'

The letter was finished, but he didn't get up to deliver it yet. Instead he listened, wondering if the other man had been listening too as he wrote, trying to hear his reaction the way he had done it before.

A promise was the only thing that kept him sane throughout all those years, but what if a promise wasn't the only thing that could?

***

‘Just say that you never wanted to be with me and stop making me feel like a flirt that you put aside because you had better options. I can’t believe I wanted to say ‘yes’.’

_It was a promise too._

His eyes jumped from one word to the next, first in order, then randomly, trying to find a different meaning, a nicer one, one that didn’t make him feel the way he did. Time passed, but the words remained the same even after the display turned black. There was only one meaning and that one stabbed right where it hurt. One that explained why he left and the person who asked him to leave made up her own version of what happened. She decided to give him the fault for responding as asked.

‘Come here if you need to talk,’ he typed in response and lay on his back, turning the letter in his hands and knowing that the man behind the wall could probably hear him. There was so much concern about promises in those paragraphs and it fit perfectly to his sentiment to address it right away, without writing a reply.

“Why do you believe that humans would keep their promises? Is there a reason?” he asked through the wall and drew a heart with the tip of his index finger, wondering if the other man’s senses were advanced enough to be able to tell.

He listened intently, identifying the sound of sheets until a vague scratching sounded right where he had drawn the heart. It must have drawn a shape too, but he couldn't tell what it was.

"Because there has to be truth somewhere," the familiar low voice finally replied through the wall, sounding slightly distorted from the clear tones he had come to know.

“There is truth, but it’s not universal. There is a truth for you, like that you aren’t human, but for me you are more human than most people I know. Then there is a truth that I won’t leave today because I pushed my suitcase a bit further to the right to not trip over it, but will it be the same tomorrow? I don’t know. The truth exists, but it is neither universal, nor eternal.” He spoke against the wall and felt a bit stupid before pressing his ear against it to hear better. “Does it scare you?”

"Yes." The reply was sudden and at first, he thought there were no more words coming until he heard a rough exhale. The other man must have been holding his breath. "Because a promise is supposed to be the truth. Even if something happens a human must turn it into the truth because they promised. Why would they promise otherwise?"

“Why, right? I guess to make the other person feel safe. To create a feeling, not contribute to a truth. The person I told you about, the one that writes messages, they promised to stay with me forever, but looking around it’s just me, my inability to sleep and my suitcase. It’s not the first time and it will probably not be the last time either. Does it make you want to curl up on the carpet and cry? If yes, please just come over and I’ll hold you if it helps.” He exhaled and looked to the side, at his closed blinds that didn’t let in much light, just enough to know that it must’ve been around eight in the morning.

"They said forever but… still told you to leave? But- but it's a promise." He could hear the tremble in the low voice, confirming his feeling that the man behind the wall was terrified of broken promises. Silence followed for a few long moments and it sounded like the other man moved closer to the wall. "Will you… really hold me if I come over?"

“I will. I don’t have a carpet, but I can put my blanket on the floor if you like,” he muttered in reply, checking the thickness of the said blanket and wondering if it qualified as a carpet replacement. “They said forever and promised and even signed papers. With their name on it, all official.” Chuckling briefly, he threw his head back on the pillow and tried to make out anything on the dark ceiling.

There was more shuffling and suddenly he could hear the low voice clearly, as if those plump lips spoke right against the wall on the other side.

"Did you promise too?"

“To be with them? I did. But how can you be with somebody if they tell you to leave. You can’t force it. And right now, I find myself thinking differently too.” He shifted closer to hear more and sighed. “Have you promised anybody anything?”

There was no reply, but he heard sheets move and steps hurried over the floors in the apartment next to his. The neighbouring door opened and closed before fingers travelled over the wood of his own apartment door. The other man was standing right in front of it, but he neither knocked nor did he ring the bell.

When he stepped closer he heard a whisper, quiet and trembling, as if the other man tried to control his emotions.

"I will never tell you to leave."

"But I will, if you tell me to," he whispered back, pushed the handle and pulled the other man inside by curling an arm around his waist before the door fell shut. Thankfully the staircase didn't have windows and there was only minimal light, drawing the outline of the tall silhouette. He kept his promise and wrapped both arms around the slim body as soon as they were in complete darkness, holding on, just as he mentioned before.

"Feelings can change and it's devastating that yours might no matter what they are, but I will be okay eventually. I guess."

"But it was a promise. That person should have kept the promise. It was even written down. With signature. A signature and a promise. That's the truth. It has to be the truth." The other man was speaking quickly, as if he wasn't even talking to him but with himself, muttering his thoughts out loud. Lean arms wrapped around his neck and held on tightly with a round nose rubbing over his neck as the man in front of him attempted to hide in the crook of it. "A signature and a promise. A signature and a promise. The truth."

"Mhm. But what do you think is the truth, her signature and the promise, or me standing here right now alone with my suitcase and the person who by chance was impressed with my lacking origami skills?" Sighing, he stepped back, pulling the man along until he finally reached the bed and lay on it, wrapping all his limbs around the person in his arms. "It's the second. It's me and my suitcase and you in my arms."

"Is this… 'actions speak louder than words'?" the low voice mumbled into his neck as long legs attempted to wrap around his body in return. "But actions can't speak, so how can they tell the truth?"

"I will give you an example. I could tell you that I don't like you with my mouth and then kiss you. The words are not true, and the action shows it. But to be honest, the issue with promises is a different one. Humans… they can't promise anything for real because they can't know if they will be able to keep it. They still do, but they actually can't."

The way those arms tightened around him seemed desperate and he used one of his hands to stroke over the silky strands of hair, raking through it in repetitive motions. "It scares you, right? Because it feels insecure. But there is an advantage too. If you get hurt, it won't hurt forever because your feelings will change too."

The silence might have been a good sign this time, but the way long fingers desperately held onto the fabric of his shirt wasn't. "Mine won't. I'm not like that. I can't change my feelings and I need promises. Without promises I'll just-"

He could hear the change in tone, the way the other man's voice broke and he stopped talking. The warm body held onto him instead, breathing rapidly until a deep inhale told him that words were about to follow. "I'll just end up alone."

It hurt a bit, but he swallowed and tried to hold the person in his arms tighter, inhaling his scent and trying to make him feel better, but it wasn't easy.

"I wish I was be able to make it stop. To stop your feeling of loneliness, but I know of how permanent it might seem, so I will be here for you, as long as you need me." There was nothing else to say and he felt the warm breaths in the crook of his neck, not quite understanding the reason, but understanding the feeling very well.

"I wish you could promise me you’ll stay. Doesn't you not wanting to promise it mean that you know it's not the truth?" The other man lifted his head and seemed to be observing him, but he couldn't really tell in the dark. He couldn't see much more than the silhouette, shadows that created the person he kept yearning for but that required a promise to feel safe. "But you are also here with me, holding me. So, your actions speak louder than your words because you want to be with me. But what happens after?"

"I get greedy for more, or I get anxious that I'll get hurt again. Or both. You say nobody really cares about you, but I do so much. You say nobody likes the real you, but I consider you amazing. I keep longing to touch your hands, to hear your voice, to be understood by you, because somehow, even if you don't understand me, you still do. I don't know what happens after because I'm too overwhelmed to think about it, but I know that if it had to be the truth, I would not have used the word _like_ because it's too bland to describe what I feel for you." He knew that being close to others when he hadn't slept was a bad idea, but that was him. He was like that and if the person in his arms could be endlessly sad about broken promises, he could be honest about his feelings for once.

"Does that… mean that you would want to be with me even without a promise?" This time the low voice didn't sound as devastated as a moment ago. Instead there was genuine surprise and wonder that he could vaguely recognise by widened eyes that reflected more of the minimal light. "I- I never thought about it that way. I thought I needed a promise to be with somebody, because I'm not human enough. You saw me the way I am and still… still you like me?"

"You don't need a promise to be loved. You just are. You're human enough, or whatever else you want to call yourself. I'm good with it. I'm just scared to break anything by involving light and making room for shadows and misunderstandings. Like that I know so well that I'm in love with you," he murmured, feeling like his heart was about to jump out of his chest as he leaned forward and placed a soft, barely traceable kiss against the soft, parted lips.

The silence that followed only made the beating of his heart louder, almost deafening in his ears.

"What does it feel like?" the man in his arms asked suddenly before returning his kiss with one of his own, applying just enough pressure to still feel the warm lips even when they were already gone.

"Ambivalence. I feel like bursting from happiness because you're in my arms and I feel like just staying like this forever, however, the following thought is that I might overdo it if I want to stay forever like this and you will be uncomfortable. I think about how much I love the way you smell and your voice, I love how you wrap around me, but I'm scared of when you want to see my face or start asking me why I can't sleep, and I don't have an answer. What if there's something off about me that will throw you off? I want to kiss and touch you, but I also want you to feel better, to feel safe with me, even though I keep thinking, am I really somebody who can make you feel safe? I'm wondering."

Too many words, he knew it were too many, but he couldn't stop because it was the truth of how he felt and the person in his arms wanted the truth. "It's the truth," he added.

"You have so many thoughts and know them so well. I will try to answer, but it is difficult for me to know what I feel. Sometimes it's a mystery, like the feelings of a person I don't know." Plump lips brushed over his neck and placed a kiss where his jugular must have been, travelling towards his jaw. "I also want to stay like this forever, but I didn't think about discomfort because being hugged is the opposite of discomfort. It is usually difficult for me to know what a person is feeling without seeing their face, but you make it so much easier for me by telling me. If you don't want me to see your face, then that is okay with me, just like not sleeping is just a part of you. I don't understand humans and you don't sleep. You accept me like that, so isn't it right that I accept you too?"

Everything sounded so simple and clear when the man in his arms said it. As if there was no reason to hesitate and be anxious, to be afraid and to feel greedy at the same time. "If you don't want to accidentally do something that I don't like, then don't eat spinach. I won't kiss you if you eat spinach, even if I really want to."

Lips brushed over his skin on the way to his mouth before finally covering it and humming into the touch, as if the other man had been waiting for it. "I also feel safe when you kiss me. You don't have to hold back."

"I know it's unreasonable, but I'm too scared to break it, so I just hide in the darkness like I usually do," he chuckled and shifted, slipping his thigh between the other man's legs. "I don't want to hold back, but I do want you to feel that you're kissed, so if you don't feel like it because everything is too much, I'd rather hold you or do anything to make it better. You're my saviour from loneliness. Tall and probably handsome. At least that's what your grandma said, and I trust her because her smile is genuine."

There was no reply at first, only lips that hesitantly brushed over his own and long fingers that raked through his black strands.

"I like the you in the darkness," the low voice exhaled against his lips, allowing him to feel every syllable. "Because without light, there are no shadows, but also no lies. My pretence is gone too, so in the darkness it's just you and me. An alien who doesn't understand humans and a human who doesn't sleep."

He listened to the frequent exhales against his ear and tightened his arms around the person who lived on the other side of the wall. The person who said he wasn't human and didn't understand humans but who turned out to be the only person who understood him.

"You're an alien?" he whispered, stroking over the silky hair as his lips tasted those warm, plump ones briefly. "That's fine with me."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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CHAPTER 9

_“But why don't humans understand you?"_

_"Because I'm not one of them."_

_"Do you need to be the same to understand? It's strange. I have no problems understanding you at all."_

_

The world consisted of rules and being human simply meant one had to figure out the ones that weren't written anywhere. At least that had been the way he explained the world for himself. There had always been something that all the other kids had that he didn't and at the same time there had always been something about him that nobody else was able to understand. The rules were different for him and for humans and it hadn't taken long for him to figure out the reason.

_Because you're not from this world._

He had never met his mother and the way his grandma smiled whenever she spoke of her daughter being from the stars was enough to know that no joking was involved. The rules that applied to him had always been different ones, even though he tried to learn the unwritten rules of humanity.

Humans had matching rules, either they had to be the same or complete opposites to be together. That was what human sayings were all about, right? 'Birds of a feather flock together' and 'opposites attract' were the two options, even though he had never quite understood what birds had to do with human relationships. Still, the choice remained the same. Either he needed to find an alien like him or a human that was the exact opposite. The problem was that humans had their own rules, so they created opposites for themselves, but not for somebody like him.

_Which is why you needed a promise._

A promise was the only way for him to have a person next to him, a person that stayed because they promised. He still remembered the round face, the warm hand that held his tightly, the promise to be by his side, the pretty smile and the slightly wavy black hair. The promise had been there and nothing else had been able to give him peace of mind throughout the past years. There was that one promise that meant he wasn't going to be alone, the only way for him to escape loneliness.

_But suddenly it isn't anymore._

Suddenly, there was a human, lying on a soft bed with him and holding him tightly. A human that said he liked him a lot, a human that enjoyed being with him without having to promise it.

_But how can you be sure?_

He didn't know, but the man holding him seemed to believe that actions spoke louder than words, that it matters more that he likes him right now, than a promise does, even if the promise is forever. The concept was difficult to understand, especially after he convinced himself for years that a promise was his only chance to not end up alone.

_He said he doesn't mind you being an alien. It's okay with him._

The words were familiar and he remembered the boy with the round face saying the same thing as the cute cheeks got a little puffier with a grin and the black, round eyes disappeared behind them. He was hearing the same words again, only many years later as if nothing had changed, apart from the person saying them.

_But it did. You're twenty-five now and the time for looking is over._

At first, he hummed, not trusting himself to speak clearly because of all the messy emotions inside his chest. The man holding him was being so affectionate towards him, accepting him the way he was even though there wasn't anything they shared. They didn't share, and they weren't opposites because he was an alien and the other man was a human.

_But still there is something that keeps you connected, that fuels the letters you write to each other._

He already inhaled to explain the way the words made him feel, how much it meant to hear them, until he suddenly remembered that he hadn't told anybody about his predicament for a reason. Not since he stopped being a child.

_Because they think you are joking._

"You don't believe me, right?" he whispered instead and buried his face in the warm neck. He didn't know what to do if the other man really didn't believe him. The proof he had didn't matter to a human because they weren't rational and judged by their feelings.

"Who am I to not believe you? If you say that you're an alien, then that's how it is, I guess. To be honest, it's not the first time someone told me that they aren't human. At first, I didn't question it because I was young and then, since I don't sleep and often don't feel like a human at all, I think I can understand a bit of the feeling behind it, even though it must be deeper for you. But I want to learn. I want to know what to do to make you feel good, how to make you feel safe and to understand the things you struggle with, so I can be of help." Warm fingers stroked from his head down his neck and the regular exhales seemed so burning hot right next to his lips. "Do you remember the poem I wrote to you once? You sleep, I don't, you hear, I don't, but still… That one. We don't have to be the same to understand."

_But still… we understand each other._

He hummed in reply, because he still remembered the poem well. It had been the first one that he wrote on a pretty sheet of paper that he kept in a diary of his. Usually he didn't write in it much because he didn't have the strength and the thoughts to do so in the evening, but since he started writing letters to his neighbour he has been copying poems on the pages.

_There is something about him that you seem to understand._

"But I am never able to understand humans, so… why am I able to understand you?" he asked, worried that the other man only felt like he was being understood, but in reality, he still didn't know a single thing and was going to misunderstand and ruin everything.

_The way you usually do._

"Maybe I really want you to understand me. It might have started with you noticing my life that takes place during the night. Nobody ever does, and it might not seem like a lot to you, or as a logical explanation, but to me it is special. You tell me if you don't understand something that I say or do and it's okay because I can explain why I do or say certain things. Like right now, you wanted me to hold you because breaking promises seems scary to you, so I'm going to hold you until you feel better, even though there are all kinds of thoughts inside my head. I try to understand you." Warm lips touched his forehead and stayed for a moment before disappearing again.

_He makes you think so many thoughts too._

"What kind of thoughts?" he asked immediately because it seemed a little easier than explaining that he felt better now, but that he also still didn't want to stop hugging. At the same time, he had to go to work soon and that meant he had to stop hugging, but he also couldn't lie and say that he didn't have to go anywhere, because that was wrong. Asking a question seemed easy, so he wriggled a little closer and rubbed his nose over the other man's jaw because he liked how it felt.

The low voice chuckled so close to his ear that the vibrations made him wiggle his arms briefly. "I could describe it in a sophisticated way, but to be honest, I react to your scent, your voice and how you feel against my body. But I'm also enjoying the moment so much that I don't want to let go of you. I'm currently preventing you from your morning routine, right? It must be around eight. Would you like to shower with me instead?" Again, there was a chuckle, accompanied by warm fingertips brushing over his shoulders and down his back.

_He reacts to you? Oh, routine._

"Yes," he replied immediately because continuing his routine while having the warm arms around him seemed nice. "I hate clothes."

"Then take them off. You don't have to deal with things you hate when you're next to me. Well, at least I hope so. Would you really like to shower with me?" He might have been mistaken, but there was some excitement in the other man's voice as he loosened his embrace and shifted. Only a few moments later he understood that the human next to him was taking off his clothes.

_Does he like to shower with other people?_

He imagined it, standing in a shower cabin next to another person, but somehow the image didn’t have any consequences. Only the videos he watched told him that people usually didn’t _shower_ when they were in a shower cabin together. He nodded again to confirm that he did want to shower, especially if he could continue his routine, but also not think the way he really liked it. His fingers started out by pulling off the underwear he was wearing and the wide t-shirt. The only reason why he wasn’t naked, was because it was early morning and he hadn’t wanted to break too many rules. Humans also had rules against nakedness in public spaces.

_The worst rule of them all._

"Will you show me what it's like to shower in the dark? Will my thoughts flow away?" he asked, because he remembered the description. He wanted to know if it was different in the other man's shower. It was darker in the apartment than in his own.

_Will it be a thought shower or a touching shower?_

"Mhm. I'm not sure mine will, but I don't want them to flow away today," the low voice replied.

_Not a thought shower?_

The lack of light only made him see the broad silhouette as it moved towards the desk and he heard how the other man undid the wristband of his watch before walking back towards him. The blinds were closed but a few rays of light managed to slip through and travelled over what looked like a perfectly sculpted chest. He recognized the outline of a nipple and of defined abdominal muscles as the light slipped lower while the other man walked towards him, but no more.

_He must look so nice but prefers to keep it in the dark._

A warm palm wrapped around his and he was pulled from the bed until his feet touched the wooden floor without a carpet. "This is the most exciting thing I've done in a while," the low voice commented, and he felt the heat of his neighbour’s body behind him as he carefully led him through the darkness until he felt cool tiles under his feet.

“Is this a thought shower or will I be able to touch your body?” he decided to ask after all, suddenly greedy for more than just the few lines of light he had been able to observe. He couldn’t really understand it himself, but the little bit that he saw made his heart beat furiously in his chest and woke the wish to see even more.

_You are still scared to break it, but you want to see more._

"Would you like to touch me?" the low voice asked in return before pulling him into the shower that must've been tiny judging by how close the heat of the other man's skin seemed now. "You can touch me if you want to. Can I touch you too?"

He nodded a little too quickly, forgetting about the little distance between them and brushed over the other man’s nose with his chin, probably hurting him a little.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured quickly and used his right hand to find the nose he hit and press a kiss on top of it to make it better. “I hope it hurts less now. Oh- now I already touched you, but that’s not quite what I meant by touching before. Touching has so many meanings. How does one know which one is the right one?”

He was blessed with one of those low chuckles he liked so much and this time it seemed as if he could get the essence of it by being so close to even feel the exhale against his skin.

"Mhm, you're right, touching has many meanings. Depending on the situation, one tries to pick out the most fitting one. My thoughts went like this- we're about to take a shower, we are both naked, we've been close before and the shower is so tiny that it's impossible not to touch, so for me touching has a sexual meaning in this case. How about you?" The sound of the shower muffled the last word and he felt a few cold drops, but mostly, the water hit the tiles, warming up in the process.

_As if he knows that you hate cold water._

He stared at the darkness around him, at the minimal reflections that a few drops created on the other man’s shoulders. They looked beautiful and he suddenly felt the desire to try one, so he did, leaning in and licking over one of those small drops, letting it dissolve on his tongue. It smelled more like cherry than it tasted, but he still liked it.

_He asked about your thoughts._

“Right, sorry, I got distracted. My thoughts were very focused on my routine at first, because I lose my sense of everything when I cannot follow my routine. You offered to continue it with you, which sounded very nice and then there was light on your chest and since then I am not sure what I am thinking apart from the fact that this drop on your shoulder was very tasty.”

His words were quick, and he couldn’t be sure they made sense, but they helped him to keep the time until the next drop of shoulder-water that he tasted rather short. He wanted to lick all over the other man’s body, taste it everywhere.

"Light on my chest? Ah- I guess the blinds weren't shut tightly. Did you- like how it looked?" A bottle clicked open and cherry smell entered his nose, intense but at the same time delicious, followed by warm fingers around his wrist and liquid in his palm.

He nodded again, too focused on the liquid on his palm because every sensation was so much more intense in the dark. His body liked to perceive everything much louder and clearer. The darkness only intensified it by focusing all the available resources in his fingers and his ears, magnifying the sound of drops and the other man’s breaths.

“You looked like I should run my tongue all over it, see if it was only your shoulder or if everything else is also tasty, even if it doesn’t taste just like it smells.” He leaned in one more time, still holding his hand as straight as he was able to in the dark while licking over what must have been a collarbone. His coordination failed as he already felt the liquid run down his wrist and forearm, cool and rich with cherry scent.

The sensations got more, a muscular arm around his waist, a low, breathy sound that left the other man's lips and warm fingertips, mixing into the cool streaks, turning them into foam and travelling towards his shoulder.

"I've only seen your silhouette briefly, but I know that you're tall, have broad shoulders and a slim waist. And my lips and tongue enlightened me that you have small nipples and I really like it. I also like how you taste, how you feel when you feel pleasure, ah-"

He listened intently, for once enjoying how much louder the words seemed to be in the dark. Each word had its own picture that appeared next to it, his own body, the way his waist was slimmer than usual, also his shoulders the way the other man described them. Each time he imagined it, he thought of fingers brushing over his skin or rubbing over the sensitive buds on his chest. The thoughts were arousing, and he smiled when he realized that the man in front of him felt the same way, sensing something hot and firm against his thigh. Considering how little he interacted with humans it seemed impossible that he would find himself in a situation like this so often in the past few days, but maybe his age had changed something. Maybe only now that he had been ready to give up, things had suddenly begun to change.

_But you already have a saviour._

He did, but maybe the man in front of him didn’t have to be the one who saves him from loneliness. Maybe he could simply be the one who liked him without a promise.

“You turn me on,” he murmured and kissed the first patch of skin he could find, nibbling the other man’s firm neck and upwards along his jaw. His earlobe was soft, so he chewed on it once before finally kissing the warm mouth, realizing how wet it was along with everything else.

_You were so focused on him, you forgot about the shower._

"I feel the same about you," the other man breathed against his lips before pulling him flush against his body that seemed even warmer than the water, especially the part that was pressed against his groin. The grip around his waist loosened and was replaced by soft palms that spread foam over his back, his sides and the curve of his butt.

It felt good, even though his perceptions were heightened, and he struggled to inhale properly. The air remained stuck in his lungs, only leaving his lips through sudden gasps as he wrapped his arms around the firm neck and hoped to remain attached for as long as possible. He could feel how the lights switched off one by one, how he couldn’t feel anything apart from the man in front of him, how he held onto him and let his warm hands roam over his body. The touch wasn’t expected, not really, but still it felt good and he just didn’t know why.

“You must have magic hands,” he muttered and held his breath again to contain more noises that rained from his mouth and made him dizzy. “Clothes and touch are always so rough, but your hands make me want to be touched.”

"I'm glad. Please tell me if it doesn't feel good, I'll stop immediately. Also, if there are spots where you don't want me to touch you at all. I will- I will pay attention to it even if my mind feels like you set all the thoughts on fire with your body against mine. You feel so good that I'm a bit scared to use too much strength to pull you even closer."

_Strength._

His eyes widened a little as he finally realized the situation he was in, the fact that he was being close to somebody who looked like he had a lot of strength and therefore also must have had a lot of strength. More than him, which also meant that he should have been acting on the things he liked instead of simply standing around and waiting for a miracle to happen. Humans always needed talking, apart from porn, but there they must have known how to read thoughts or something because everybody always enjoyed everything.

He smiled and let his hands travel along the muscular man’s shoulders all the way to his behind, which he squeezed and pushed flush against himself. He underestimated his own reaction a little, as he gasped and almost fell back, vision briefly turning white.

“Please use a lot of strength,” he murmured eventually and tried again, squeezing the firm butt and pulling it towards himself. Friction overwhelmed him every time.

"Do you enjoy it?" The strong pull of those arms that attached him to the firm chest almost knocked him over, had there not been a firework of arousal that came from the spot between the other man's legs that rubbed against his own erection. "You're gorgeous. I don't see you, but every inch of my skin burns when I touch you. Please feel free to touch me too. I like how big your hands are."

He nodded furiously, not even sure he grasped the meaning of the words fully. The important bit was that the sensations burning through him weren’t going to stop anytime soon. He wrapped his arms tightly around the other man’s neck and kept roaming over his back until his fingers finally found wet strands of hair that he pulled at. There still wasn’t enough body contact even though he was already getting dizzy, but he lifted his left leg and hooked it over a hip bone, hoping to wrap even tighter around the muscular man.

"Do you feel dizzy?" the low voice asked into his ear before hands wrapped around his thighs and lifted him easily until he could only feel the hip bones and the pulsating warmth right against his butt.

He shook his head at first, not even sure why exactly. Maybe it was again the dizziness speaking or he feared that the other man was going to let him sink to the floor instead of continuously holding him. The strength was everything he had hoped for and more and the heat against his behind was sending constant waves of arousal to his middle, only increasing the dizziness and the heat in his face. Even though he knew that there were still drops falling on both, he couldn’t feel them, as if they evaporated before touching their skin.

He curled his legs even tighter around the warm body and held his breath for a few seconds before trying again, this time nodding. “I- I always feel so much and it makes me dizzy, but- but that doesn’t mean that you-”

Talking was difficult, so he buried his face in the crook of the other man’s neck, curling his back in the process and crossing his legs behind the firm butt.

"It doesn't mean that I…? You can be dizzy if you like. Would you like me to touch you and make you even more dizzy? Because to be honest this position is driving me completely insane." He felt the thick length twitch against his butt right as the words were drowned out by the sound of water. "I want you."

He nodded again, hoping that he was answering the right question. He buried his face further in the crook of the other man’s neck and let his teeth nibble on the wet skin, alternating between bites and licks because it kept him from completely losing awareness. That way there was still a hint of another sensation apart from the burning between his legs and his mind that painted all possibilities of making him even more dizzy as arousing images inside his head.

“Be insane with me then,” he gasped and dared to push his hips forward and increase the friction, gasping at the sudden onslaught of pleasure that needed a few seconds to fade away again. “Fuck me up.”

"There are many ways to make you incredibly dizzy, but I need to know what you like," the low voice breathed against his lips, turning around and letting him touch the tiles with his naked back.

His brain was overheating from all the questions and he furiously tried to match the situation to anything he had seen before. Shower, darkness, his naked back against the tiles, a firm erection against his behind and a muscular man holding him up. It should have been easy, but he felt blank and couldn’t think of the right words to say. The first time he tried, it must have been incoherent because he couldn’t be sure that he spoke words and the other man didn’t react accordingly and didn’t give him what he wanted either.

“Fuck me,” he gasped out finally, deciding that it was the most comprehensible one and needed the least words to explain. He wanted all the lights inside his mind to turn off and give him nothing but the sensations that the other man provided him with again.

"W-what?" Instead of sparks there was nothing but the sound of the shower and the other man's rough breaths followed by swallowing. "No. I won't do that, but I can touch you. I can use my hand while holding you like this, or you can stand, and I will pleasure you with my lips."

_Huh?_

He blinked, but the darkness remained the same and as usual he didn’t know what the person holding him was thinking or feeling. A disadvantage of the blackness around him became apparent, even if he knew that knowing and observing the face he could feel with his fingertips wouldn’t have helped him understand. His heart was still too loud in his ears, louder than the shower and he didn’t know how to answer, not when his first attempt was met with rejection.

"Would you like me to explain why I said no?" Leaning in, the low voice breathed closer to his ear and those fingertips changed their grip from strong to almost tender, thumb rubbing over his wet skin. Instead of the bright lights distracting him turning off one by one, they suddenly began to return. The tenderness remained pleasant, but the water hitting his head and running down his lips was not. The warmth of the other man was desirable, but the cold air around them was not, forcing a shiver to pass through his body.

He trembled, but not from the cold. His senses were returning without invitation with each second that the man holding him expected an answer, with each moment that he couldn’t forget himself in sensations that were stronger than anything else.

"Are you freezing? Should I make the water warmer or turn it off?" another question followed as those arms gradually loosened around him, leaving too much air between their bodies.

The influx of impressions was too much, so much that he whimpered and instantly sank to the cold floor. He could feel it all, the tiles against his knees, the pain from the lines in between them. The cold water was still covering his body and pooled where his hands brushed over the tiles, looking for something to hold on to. When he couldn’t find it, he held his breath and wrapped his arms around himself, seesawing back and forth to be able to focus on something regular.

There was a curse, the water turned off, first fingers, then hands felt for him before pulling him closer to a wet warmth that wrapped around him like a blanket that was moist but still as comforting as his own blanket was. His own blanket that was offered at the right time, made from right fabric and provided silence and warmth.

"It was- too-" he tried, but couldn’t finish, words becoming incoherent and transforming into a whimper. He didn't want to show himself like this, but he couldn't help it, shaking and holding onto the warmth like it was the only thing that could save him.

"You don't need to explain," the low voice breathed out quietly, as if knowing that he couldn't handle loud noise right now, that everything was so loud already. He was pulled even closer, feeling a regular heartbeat against his own chest, one, two, one, two.

He started counting the beats and matching them to the way he curled the fingers of his right hand. One, two, three, four, five and all over again, starting with the thumb. One, two, three, four, five.

It was difficult to tell how much time passed. He never knew when he was in this state, but the regular heartbeat helped to blend out the other noises, to help match his own furiously beating heart to the steadiness that he curled his fingers to.

A shiver passed through the body that he had been holding onto, pulling his attention away from the regular sounds. The sudden motion drew his attention to the water still covering his own body and the body around him, the cold drops that pearled off his bangs and fell on top of the tiles.

"Are you- are you cold?" he whispered, realising that his own body felt numb, even though he must have been freezing too.

"I think you are even colder, and I don't really manage to warm you up. Would it be okay if I stood up and got you a towel? It's extra soft cotton."

He hummed, letting his hands run over the tiles under his knees and the marks that they had left. As usual he hadn't been aware of discomfort at all, barely realising that he bruised his knees and ended up freezing in the shower.

_You were supposed to do something before all of this happened, but what was it?_

"What day is it?" he asked eventually, feeling terribly disoriented without his friend the alarm clock. There was a reason his grandma had given it to him as a present. He could always see it, even in the dark.

The other man wrapped a big towel around him and pulled him to his feet, drying his skin carefully. "It's Tuesday and it's pretty much my fault because I suggested it. I got your clothes." He felt like a doll, holding onto the wet hair as he stepped into his underwear and the loose shirt was pulled over his head. "It would probably be easier if it wasn't dark in here either. Should I bring you to your door, or…?"

_Your door. You are at the apartment next door, it's dark and he wanted to show you how thoughts flow away under a shower._

"Your touch is louder than the water," he murmured and reached out until he found the other man's chest, wrapping his arms around the firm waist. "That's why I like it more."

The other man hummed, putting on something that felt like a towel and leading him through the apartment, the hallway and finally arriving at his door. It was dark, but compared to the apartment, he could see so much more. The person next to him hid his face under a big black hood of a bathrobe, waiting for him to open the door with the key that he pulled out from under the doormat.

"My touch is louder than the water, but my words will always be louder than that," the person next to him whispered before turning around and walking back into the darkness of the apartment behind the wall.

He didn't reply, but he also couldn't be sure if his words would have even reached the other man. Not unless they were written on paper.

Unlocking his door, he stepped into the brightly illuminated apartment and as everyday his eyes met the familiar alarm clock, standing on a shelf and watching him. The numbers looked friendly, usually, but now there was something furious about the vibrant red colour as the numbers zero, nine, four and eight stared back at him.

The numbers burned themselves into his eyes and still he wasn't able to look away. He wasn't able to look away and he couldn't stop watching his world fall apart brick by brick. He couldn't close his eyes and forget that for the first time in fifteen years he wasn't where he was supposed to be or that the person that liked him without a promise didn't want to be close to him the way he did.

***

The ceiling looked the same, the thick blanket felt the same way, his skin was warm and the watch he had put back on his wrist showed that it was only half an hour before noon.

There was nothing special about the time, nothing special about the numbers or the thin handle that moved further every second, but kept running in circles around its own axis, returning to the same spot no matter how many seconds passed. Only an intentional look at the thicker handle showed that time was passing, slowly. It was thick and solid, just like the pressuring, surprising and devastating question that he thought he didn’t have to ask himself ever again.

_Why can’t you fall asleep?_

It has been ages since the last time he thought about his inability to sleep and he liked the habit of ignoring the fact that he couldn’t. When he kept living as if time didn’t matter, as if the number of hours that he was able to rest didn’t matter, then there was no problem with him in the first place. None that others noticed because he never told anyone. It has always been him and his tiny little secret, the step out of the shadow when it was night. For him, sleep seemed like a country far away without a plane connection or another opportunity to get there. He was like a bystander, listening to how other people talked about sleeping, about visiting that magical country every day without putting in effort, without doubts how to reach it, without thinking.

Thinking.

He couldn’t stop thinking.

_Am I a thought?_

_Existing far away from sleep_

_The only place I can be_

_When I’m not thinking._

_But I am._

The silence seemed eternal to him, seeping into every pore of his body, his eyes, mouth and ears, crawling up the strands of his hair that dried along with how silence filled the apartment next door and slowly started filling him. What was a sound in an eternity of silence?

A blessing.

Should he have written a reply or explained himself and his words? But how, to somebody who got hurt by them, for whom those words appeared so loud that they drowned out everything else, the water, the touch, the calm that broke so fast as if it had been a thin spider web that he easily ripped by a simple ‘no’?

A ‘no’ he would have repeated anytime. A ‘no’ he didn’t want and didn’t need to apologize for. A ‘no’ that was necessary to keep one thing and break another. A ‘no’ that might have not been said if the situation was different, if he knew less and cared less and was less thoughtful and more selfish, if he tried to gain something no matter what, if he was insecure enough to have trouble rejecting something he had doubts about and had enough confidence to think that it would be fine.

_What 'is' will stay, even if the 'if' was different._

His mind was full, a chamber with an open door that thoughts used to walk in and settle on the floor, on the window sill, covering the floors and standing in the doorframe. And when it seemed like there was no space anymore, they still pushed themselves in without an invitation, circling around each other.

The ‘You shouldn't have’ danced with the ‘You aren’t enough’ and invited ‘You can’t sleep because you feel guilty’ to join as they rubbed against each other, creating a formation that seemed so big that it resembled a voluptuous truth he had tried to ignore.

It could have been the truth, if he hadn't seen them already. If he didn’t know that he could push them out of his mind, make them perform their accusatory dance somewhere else and clean up the mess.

He needed rain. Rain and the night, but he didn’t have either. Just a mind full of thoughts, the guilt of making another person feel so bad that they broke down in front of him, and the bitter awareness of knowing that he could’ve made it better by sacrificing the sight of his face, the magic of the darkness. He could have, but he didn’t.

He listened to how the bed creaked and walked to his desk to take out a blank piece of paper, blank like he wished his mind to be and blank because he wanted to start a new letter. Not write a reply to the past one.

Chewing on his lips, he swallowed at the sound his pen made when he removed the cover and started to write down his thoughts until there were none of them left.

‘Will a new letter, a new start, a new thought, be able to fix anything? I don’t know if it will and I’m not hoping for any positive outcome, but I need to write to you like I need to breathe, like I need the rain and the darkness. Right now, I need them so much. Your words, your voice, even the sound of your steps and how you just throw your bathroom door shut, but I have no rain, no darkness and no you. I don’t, and it hurts.

When I think about you, I remember your rough exhales when you sank down onto the tiles, arms wrapped around yourself so tightly that I needed strength to pull you towards me. I’m not even sure that it helped, or whether I was being selfish. I have never felt that I made another person feel that way and for that I am deeply sorry, however… I am not sorry for saying no to you. I will explain, even if I’m not sure whether you want to read it or not.

It’s not that I didn’t want you, or that I don’t want you now, I do. I do so much that my whole body starts burning and I feel the only way to satisfy it is to have all of you, hold you with all strength that I have, take you completely and feel the same ecstasy that you feel when your dizziness takes over you and you moan without any restraint, moving your body in my hold.

I do want you, but how can I do anything when I know that you just had your first kiss with someone else? That you’ve been close to someone else and that you maybe also want to be even closer to that person? I feel that you aren’t experienced, or are you? You talk so freely about being close, but do you really know? Do you know how it feels to be close to another person and go further than… than what you’ve experienced with me? I don’t mean to make you feel bad or lacking. I mean to explain to you that there is no way I’m going to knowingly hurt you, knowingly take away something that I’m not sure you are aware of giving, something special. I’m not going to use the moment to satisfy my own needs without thinking of you and what it means to you. I’m always here to talk about it, to explain and to make you understand if you didn’t. It’s important to me.

Strangely, I can’t sleep at all today. Usually I don’t sleep more than two or three hours either, but today I didn’t get a single second of nothingness. I had so many things on my mind that I couldn’t bear to lie in bed for hours without anything happening, so I got up and am writing to you now. To be honest, it’s been a long time since I felt so devastated about my inability to sleep. It’s been a first in a long while to think of it as a major handicap, as an issue, as a punishment that cursed me to feel this way.

I’m so sorry for making you feel the way you did. For being unable to warm you up when you were freezing and for my inability to show my face to you, even though, who knows, maybe it would have helped to calm you down, would’ve given you some closure. I was so scared that I couldn’t and I’m sorry for that. Not for the ‘no’, but for how you felt because of me, I am genuinely sorry.

I only remember the golden tone of your skin because I stared at your wrist, trying to hide behind the fabric of my bathrobe hood. Does your skin have a golden shade, or is it my sleep deprived mind making things up? It was still dark, but not as dark as I make it for myself, so I think I could see it. A bit of you. I will cherish it. Maybe I should show you my forearm next time to make it fair.

I talked so much about myself that I feel I struggled to bring my point across. The point that I like you so much that losing you feels like the worst thing that could happen to me.

Please tell me about your planet, so I can always come and find you there. H.’

Swallowing down a wave of emotions that he didn’t feel ready to think about, he made an origami moon out of the letter and decided to deliver it on his way to university. He needed a new hard drive for the database and wanted to pop by now, now that he couldn’t sleep anyway. Somehow, he was also wondering if Hyungwon still sat in a dark office with his blinds down, unable to react when somebody stood next to him and he wasn’t expecting it. It made him curious.

Or it distracted him. He didn’t know for sure, but maybe he didn’t want to know.

_

A knock, he cleared his throat and walked into the office. The little light made him smile because it had a familiar feeling to it. As if he wasn’t alone with his preference for a certain play of shadows.

As expected the person in the chair didn’t move, clicking something on the screen and occasionally typing short commands in code. Smiling again, he closed the door and stepped closer, one step at a time, wondering when Hyungwon would notice that somebody had entered his office. To prevent any damage, he took a step to the side and cleared his throat, feeling a bit awkward holding the bag in his hand and even more awkward because the other man didn’t react.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced, but I was getting a new hard drive from IT and thought I would pop by with some food because you never go to lunch, also not with your colleagues, but you must need food, so I got some sushi. I hope you’re okay with sushi, but if you are not, I can eat it all by myself too, because I like it.”

Hyungwon flinched as if he had screamed the words into the other man’s funnily curved ear and turned to the side with a kick of his foot, thereby turning the chair towards him.

“It’s- it’s a Tuesday,” the other man muttered, and he couldn’t help but wonder how that was related to anything he had just said. “Do you come by on Tuesdays?”

"I have no fixed days, but I went to the IT department, so I thought I would pop by your office on the way back. Should I… leave again?" Now, the bag in his hand seemed even more awkward, so he slowly lowered it to not remind the person who obviously wasn't very happy to see him that he had put in thought without being asked to.

“W-what? No!” Hyungwon sounded a little too loud for the quiet office and the immediate flinch suggested that he felt the same way himself. The tall man jumped up from his chair and made his way towards him, fingers wrapping around his arms as if he had been about to run off like a robber and needed to be held in place. “I like that you came. I like you. Stay.”

"W-what?" he stepped back, but those long fingers still dug into his biceps, holding onto him as if he was about to evaporate along with the bag full of sushi that was dangling in his hand. The last thing he had been prepared for was a strange confession accompanied by slightly uncomfortable body contact and the feeling that something was off about the behaviour of the person next to him. "Is everything okay with you? You went from not noticing me for a minute to acting quite agitated and throwing confessions at me. But maybe you're just hungry." It was ridiculous, and he knew it, but he felt like refocusing the attention on the food was a good idea. "Do you like sushi, Hyungwon, is that why you're trying to bury your nails into my biceps? I'll give it to you, I promise." He chuckled to relax a little despite the awkward position.

“You broke a promise before,” the other man whispered suddenly, but the words weren’t what caught him off guard the most. It was the gaze that seemed to meet his own for what felt like a split second before slipping away and focusing on the bag in his hands instead. “You promised to keep me safe, but then you walked through that door.” A slim finger lifted in the air and pointed at the office door that had moved with the wind and was only partially open at this point.

He needed a few seconds to recollect the context in which he had promised to keep Hyungwon safe. It had been when they'd been close, and he turned off the light.

"I keep using the word promise, even though it's not very fitting. I wanted you to feel safe, let's say it that way. I cannot really promise to make you feel safe, or however else. It was more about my wish. Like my wish to feed you sushi." Licking over his lips, he reached for the long fingers digging into his arm painfully. It seemed as if Hyungwon couldn't really coordinate whether it was too much pressure or not. He hissed briefly when those nails finally left him and pointed at the deep, red marks that covered his arm. "Was that a punishment for not keeping you safe? I sacrificed your safety for my own, so I'll accept it."

“Oh no,” the low voice whispered, sounding very quiet at first before the other man repeated the words a few more times and stroked over the marks he had left. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know that I was hurting you. Now you will probably leave because I did, even though I like sushi and I like to feel safe too. Wait-”

The grip was barely there this time as Hyungwon lifted his arm to his plump mouth and started covering each scratch in kisses, making sure not to miss a single inch of redness.

He wasn't sure whether there would've been any other appropriate reaction apart from his staring and continuous silence.

Probably not.

"I'm not going to leave, I bought sushi and I came to eat lunch with you, so if you- stop kissing my arm, we can actually do that instead of standing here and being awkward. To be honest, you make me feel like a six-year-old. I think that's about the time when my mom stopped trying to heal my pain with kisses and decided she didn't need to care about it at all. Your lips feel nice though." He was talking so much, usually he thought more and talked less, but the tiredness must've disabled a filter that usually kept his thoughts from spilling from his lips.

The plump mouth finally lifted off his forearm without returning to a different spot on it. Big eyes looked at his face, but didn’t meet his gaze, remaining somewhere around his eyebrows instead.

“Your mother is mean for stopping to take care of your cuts. Even if science says that they don’t get better from a kiss, the placebo effect helps with about 15 percent and that’s quite a lot. You should make sure you have somebody to do it. It feels nice.” Hyungwon nodded before his eyes widened and he seemed to realize something, fingers grabbing the bag with sushi instead of his arm for the first time. “You brought this to eat with me? So, you came here to see me, because otherwise you would ask me to do something, right? So, you must have come for me. That is amazing!”

"I'm not sure what it is, but there's something really interesting about your confusing way of acting. It makes me feel a bit at ease, I don't know-" he chuckled again and looked around, finding only one chair and making the decision to eat on the floor. He sat down, crossing his legs and arranging the sushi boxes on the spread bag before handing the chopsticks to Hyungwon who still stood on the same spot. "I think it will be better to eat like this because there's only one chair and I don't want to stain your equipment. So… come here."

“Alright.” His explanation must have helped as the tall man nodded with a sudden smile. He expected him to join him, but instead of sitting down on the floor next to him, Hyungwon hurried over to his desk and crawled under it, taking out what looked like a rolled-up carpet.

“How about this?” he asked with a wide smile, hugging the carpet roll.

"Is that… for praying?" he asked, wondering if Hyungwon was religious and had to pray before eating. "Please feel free."

“Huh, I don’t pray. I think science and religion are not compatible,” the other man replied and kept smiling as he rolled out the small carpet next to him. It resembled a bathroom mat, made of artificial material that was meant to suck up moisture and had extra fabric to be soft under one’s feet as soon as one left the shower. “It’s to lie on.”

"I misunderstood then. You like lying on a mat?" He had to laugh, remembering his neighbour and how much he loved his carpet. "I seem to attract people who love carpets, it's really funny. You can lie on it, stuff your face with sushi and pretend that you're a naked roman eating grapes."

Again, there was a nod instead of a laugh at his joke and he observed how the other man grabbed the seam of his shirt, preparing to pull it over his head until he stopped just before revealing his navel. “Wait. Are you being serious or is this a joke? I cannot tell.”

"Okay. It was a joke. I just thought it would look fun if you… Wait, let me show you. Like this." He crawled closer and lay on top of the carpet, propping on his elbow, with his right leg angled and slowly putting a salmon roll into his mouth before chewing deliciously. "Mhm. See? Does it look tasty?"

Big eyes observed him, but again there was no amusement, only the intense gaze of the man in front of him as it followed the sushi roll first before focusing on him instead, sliding from his legs over his hips and chest towards his face. Only his eyes were left out of the equation.

“You do.”

"I could make a great naked roman, I have the fitting body type." He smiled and licked some of the soy sauce from his mouth. "Aren't you going to eat if it's delicious?"

It was a teasing comment, something that most people would have grinned or chuckled about, but not the man in front of him. Hyungwon licked his own lips to mirror his gesture and crawled forward, one palm flat on the fluffy carpet and the other right next to his shoulder. One long leg was easily thrown over his hips, allowing the other man to straddle his lap. Merely a few seconds passed during which he had the chance to prepare for what was to come before a hot mouth covered his own.

_Holy fuck._

A gasp left his lips, but his arms wrapped around the warm body all on their own, pulling it closer and deepening the kiss. Hyungwon was attractive, very attractive, especially when he just randomly climbed him for no apparent reason and caught him completely off guard, without a single thought between action and reaction, thereby preventing him from analysing the situation thoroughly and making a proper decision. A thoughtful one.

"Damn it, you -" he muttered but didn't finish, too eager to taste more of that soft, delicious mouth. He didn't mean to come here and get anything, be kissed or touched. He came because no matter how sad it sounded, Hyungwon was the only person who knew his face and still talked to him and he started cherishing it somehow.

The other man gasped into the kiss and pushed himself lower, thereby aligning their bodies and applying more pressure to his chest. Those plump lips were restless, kissing him as if it was the last thing they were able to do, nibbling and sucking on his bottom lip. Hyungwon’s hands were still at first, holding his weight before the right one lifted to roam his shoulders and chest, brushing over his nipples through his shirt and tugging at the fabric.

There was a split second that he felt concerned about the sushi, but it couldn't get cold, so he lay back and let Hyungwon sink on top of him, roaming his back and tugging at his black hair. He really liked how it felt, how those plump lips parted in rough exhales, how those eyes rolled back, and he too felt breathless after seconds, even though there wasn't much going on. Yet.

Big hands eagerly tried to feel more of him, slipping under his shirt and stroking along his stomach all the way up to his chest, brushing over his nipples before attempting to get further without taking off the shirt. It didn’t work, but the other man merely whined into the kiss, humming as he scratched over his abdomen lightly and lifted the fabric high enough to count his ribs by letting his index finger slip down each of them. No matter the touches, the kiss didn’t break, as if Hyungwon needed it to breathe.

He would've been lying if he said that he was listening to any of his thoughts or knew what he was thinking right at that moment. His hands simply mirrored the motion, stroking over Hyungwon's burning skin, so soft under his fingertips and the fabric appeared as a nuisance, only preventing them from feeling more of each other. He broke the kiss for a split second, to pull his grey shirt over his head and leave it somewhere on the side before attaching his lips to the delicious plump mouth in front of him. Did he need distraction? Or he needed to prove something to himself. Maybe he did, but right now, he couldn't tell at all.

As soon as there was no shirt covering his chest, Hyungwon’s fingers turned even more restless, stroking upwards from his ribs towards his neck and wrapping around it, until it wasn’t enough, and he resumed tracing his abdomen and brushing over his nipples. The gasps that were caught in each of their kisses were addicting, breathy and desperate as if nothing else was able to make the man on top of him feel this way.

“Undress me,” the low voice muttered suddenly, breaking the kiss only for those two words before instantly capturing his lips again.

He had enough brain capacity left to break the kiss once again, crawl back to turn the key in the lock and hurry back to the gorgeous man who was looking at him without any hint of understanding. Maybe he was the only one who cared about Hyungwon's career, but he couldn't let his personal needs affect someone else's professional life like that.

The thoughts were noble but lasted for only as long as he needed to wrap his fingers around the seam of Hyungwon's shirt and pull it over his head. Every single thought turned into an imminent need to feel those dark, tiny buds in his mouth and against his tongue and he planned on acting on it. Turning them and easily placing Hyungwon on the carpet below himself, he crawled on top to get access to the warm, delicious skin that felt like it melted on his tongue into the scent of cherry and something else. Something that he felt he couldn't get enough of, no matter how many times he inhaled and how much he rubbed his nose over the smooth skin to bask in it.

"I think I'm losing my mind, but I like it so much," he whispered before finally sucking the tiny bud into his mouth while letting Hyungwon feel the weight of his hips and thighs and humming lowly because he enjoyed how it hardened under his tongue.

The moan that sounded from that plump mouth pulled at something inside of him, but there were no thoughts left that could have followed that sensation. Instead, his attention remained at the firm bud between his teeth and the instant wriggling of the lean body below him. Hyungwon's right leg slipped between his own and increased the friction between them.

"The carpet- you- no thoughts at all," the low voice gasped, and he felt fingers slipping in between the strands of his hair and tugging in encouragement. "Don't stop, Hoseok."

There was something about Hyungwon, something that pulled him in, and he wasn't even sure if it was the sexual part. He didn't think about being close before popping by at all. Not before that hot mouth clashed against his and he lost all coherency and analytical ability.

"I won't," he whispered, nibbling on the other nipple and moving his hips as he travelled towards the delicate neck. It was shimmering in a golden tone and he felt like a vampire, sinking his teeth into it to taste more, feel more. He rolled his body over the slim hips, gasping at how aroused Hyungwon was, how much it seemed that he wanted him and moaned lowly, unable to hold it in.

Low moans began to rain from the other man's lips, transforming into rough gasps for air as each motion of his hips resulted in a rough inhale that wasn't followed by an exhale. Hyungwon's hands kept tugging at his hair, encouraging him to touch more of him, to have more of his neck, his jaw and his lips. He felt how one of the other man's long legs wrapped around his hips and pulled him down, increasing the friction. The resulting tremble that passed through Hyungwon's whole body was addicting.

Getting a reaction like Hyungwon's was perfect, causing him to feel a maximum of arousal in such a short time and eager to hear more, feel more and find out what kind of sounds the other man would make if he teased him.

He let his right-hand travel between their bodies to undo the button of Hyungwon's jeans and pulled down the zipper before using his index finger to trace the shape of the warm length under a thin layer of fabric. "Would you like me to touch you, Hyungwon?" he breathed into the cute ear, repeating the motion.

A whimper was his reply, not coherent enough to be a clear yes, but close enough to interpret the way the slim hips lifted to meet his hand. Hyungwon kept gasping for air like he couldn't get enough of it, as if each touch of his fingers, no matter how brief, was stealing every rational thought from his mind.

The black-haired man looked beautiful with his hair spread out over the mat he was lying on, ruffled up because of the way he kept throwing his head from side to side. The dim table lamp was throwing a pretty shadow on his round nose, letting the shapes dance over his cheeks and parted mouth. When he repeated the motion of his fingers, the grip on his hair got rough enough to produce a hiss.

"I'm losing it, shit," he breathed out and travelled lower, leaving bite marks on the lean stomach and tracing the prominent hip bones with his tongue until he reached the other man's groin, lifted his underwear and licked a drop of precum from his tip.

He suppressed a chuckle as the sensation must have been intense enough to almost knee him in the jaw. Hyungwon shook from oversensitivity and captured his head between his thighs before spreading them right after, muttering words that he couldn't understand. Fingers tugged at his hair, just as indecisive about what they wanted like the irregular jerks of the other man's hips, trying to feel more but also feeling too much at the same time.

He smiled, observing the intensity of his partner's reaction as his tongue drew circles around the slit before he had mercy and took the twitching length into his mouth. He had sensed the need to keep those hips in place and he did, holding them in a tight grip as he took more of the warm erection until it hit the back of his throat and he slowly moved up again.

The babbling increased and the tugs at his hair got rougher. Hyungwon struggled to get enough air and threw his head from side to side, showing off his golden neck and jawline. Breathy moans sounded in between and echoed around them, a little too loud for their location but the man he was pleasing seemed to have no restrain.

Maybe he should've thanked his last bit of common sense that he used to crawl up and place his palm tightly over the plump mouth. "You can make as much noise as you like, but I'll keep your mouth shut, okay?" Not bothering to wait for a reply, he crawled back down and started with the real thing, playing with the tip and sucking roughly before tightening his lips and going all the way down, and up and down again. He swallowed around it a few times and it cost quite some coordination to keep sucking and ignore the rough moans against his palm as he pleased the man below him.

He could feel it all, whimpers, gasp, a hot tongue that brushed over his fingers as Hyungwon lost all coherence, tugging at his hair roughly and spreading his legs. The slim body tensed up from one moment to the next and trembled through orgasm, catching him by surprise and leaving only a single second of warning.

He swallowed and licked over his swollen lips before closing Hyungwon's pants, crawling up and leaving a wet trace of kisses on the warm skin. He had removed his hand from the parted mouth but there was not a single sound. Only rough breaths and closed eyes.

"It must feel intense for you to come right away. You look… a bit… like you're not from his world," he murmured, after observing the prominent features, the shadows of the pretty eyelashes on the golden cheeks and the black hair spread over the mat. He wanted to kiss those closed eyes and the darkness behind them.

_Is it his eyes that you want to kiss?_

They remained closed, but a smile spread the plump mouth, giving the beautiful face a sense of calm.

"You were always able to tell," Hyungwon whispered and wrapped his fingers around his arms, pulling him closer. "Please keep me safe. Even if you didn't promise this time."

He wondered what all of that meant. Why Hyungwon talked about him as if they knew each other from a long time ago, what those words meant, what he was able to tell and how the hell he was supposed to keep the person in his arms safe.

All those thoughts battled each other through his own arousal that filtered them mercilessly, only leaving those that were easily graspable. Maybe he just needed to wrap himself around the slim body like he did with the man in his shower, waiting for the sign that his efforts had been enough.

"I wish I knew what any of this means," he whispered, wrapping both arms around the burning hot torso and pulling the person so close that there was no air between them. The person who still looked otherworldly and ethereal, like he was part of a different species. A species from a different planet.

An alien.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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CHAPTER 10

_“Will you really marry me when I'm 25?"_

_"I told you. Do you want me to write it down? I got this new Naruto stamp, I'll put it next to the promise and then it's set."_

_

Shards of glass all around his naked feet, like a minefield only waiting to explode. The remains of his routine were surrounding him, reminding him that it had been there before but unable to reassemble and create a new one.

His routine had fallen apart as soon as he decided to enter the apartment next door instead of eating breakfast and following the change in numbers on his alarm clock.

Through the break, everything had become surreal, like a bucket of water that was thrown over his reality and resulted in smudged colours, a watercolour painting instead of the human world he lived in. The lines between the roles he played blurred, between the behaviour that he had learned was acceptable and behaviour that outed him as an alien.

The man that started liking him without a promise, blurred into his work day that didn't feel right and finally into the man that was meant to save him because of a promise. He knew how to tell apart the two, but somehow it felt like their roles were switched, as if the one who liked to be with him wasn't the one who should. The promise was made, so what was the right course of action? He was twenty-five now and the time for alternatives had passed. Now there was only the promise, but still he had broken his routine to go where there were no promises. A place where only actions and no security existed.

_But why?_

There was no time to answer that question and even if there had been, he probably wouldn't have been able to. His eyes struggled to see through the blurred colours of reality and his behaviour didn't fit the role he was meant to play. He could tell that something was off about the way he acted, about the way his lips brushed over Hoseok's forearm and covered it in kisses. He knew it, but still he didn't have the strength to change it. The kisses happened and so did the next kiss, and the next, and touches that began to turn off the lamps inside his head one by one.

The sensation was so addicting, so peaceful but overwhelming that he couldn't say no, couldn't hold back his need to drown in it.

So, he did, moaning out loud as the watercolours of his reality blurred into a vibrant white and pure bliss washed over him, leaving a pleasant nothing. Just nothing until the sky came crashing down all over again.

The input overwhelmed him, making him gasp and struggle to focus on a single sensation, so he wrapped himself around the hot body and stayed perfectly still, waiting for the feeling to fade.

The seconds tickled by and he listened to the rough breaths against his face, focused on the hot firmness against his thigh. He held onto everything he could hold onto, hoping to return to his calm, to get rid of the blurred lines between the colours of reality, between the roles he was meant to play.

There was no darkness, but he created it by keeping his eyes shut, by listening to Hoseok's words and recognising once again that it was really him, the little boy that promised to save him.

_His voice is so familiar._

Hoseok had always been able to tell, to see that there was something different about him, unusual, but without calling it something bad. He could still remember the little boy asking why he was sad with his round eyes and pink cheeks. A hand had instantly held his and instead of telling him that there was no reason to be sad, the boy had simply given him one of his toys, asking him to cheer up because he was there now.

_Because you aren't going to be alone anymore._

The memory conjured a smile on his face and he remarked on it, telling Hoseok that this one quality of his hadn't changed at all. Somehow, he was still able to see something in him that others didn't, but without judging it.

_Even if he broke a promise once by leaving, doesn't mean that he will do it again, right?_

He asked for it, wrapping himself around the hot body and letting his hands roam the muscular chest. He enjoyed how it felt, each dip and each flexed muscle that he could trace below his fingertips. He could feel Hoseok's arousal against his thigh, but the whispered response distracted him, leaving a vague feeling of dread.

"I wish I knew what any of this means," Hoseok whispered. As if there was nothing between them, as if there was no reason to remember and reminisce about the things that hadn't changed.

_But there was nothing else you thought about, nothing but that promise._

"It means that I'm happy you still see me that way," he replied eventually and covered the bits of neck that he could see with kisses. He wanted to cover Hoseok whole to somehow repay him for the blissful peace he experienced. There was a hint of salt against his tongue and he enjoyed it too much to stop, licking over the other man's neck and only stopping because he couldn't reach further. "I want to breathe you in, trace your whole body with my tongue and make you a part of myself. I wish I knew how."

"That sounds pretty intriguing." The plump lips parted, and he felt the air hit his cheek before there were more words. "Listen, I- had this on my mind for a long time but felt too scared to ask. I think I will do it now, so I can finally stop thinking about it. Do we… do we by chance know each other and I'm not aware of it? What happened at the wedding… and your words about a promise, about knowing me and me knowing you, it seems as if you know something that I don't."

_He doesn't remember._

The quiet voice was replaced by silence that then turned into a rough gasp as he accidentally bit too roughly into the skin of the warm neck. "Is this a yes?"

_He doesn't remember._

The air that had just entered his lungs struggled to leave them again while his lips remained attached to the warm skin. The thought was a strong one, repeating over and over again and making it difficult to focus.

_He promised, but he doesn't remember._

"But you promised," he whispered, feeling the warm air of his exhale return to him as it reflected off Hoseok's skin. His words didn't explain anything, but they constituted the only thought on his mind, the only one that made sense.

_But even if he doesn't remember it, a promise remains the truth._

"What was it that I promised? That means we do know each other, right? Can't you give me a hint?" Hoseok wrapped his arms tighter around him, letting him feel more of the muscular body, the hot skin and the remaining arousal.

_He promised, so it's still the truth. He only needs to know._

A smile spread his lips and he travelled lower from the delicious neck, brushing his nose over the other man's muscular arm. It was firm but at the same time felt soft, like a pleasant place for his head.

"You promised to save me," he replied and placed a kiss on the inner elbow. He imagined how nicely his face fit there.

Fingers stroked over his head and played with his hair as Hoseok waited for him to lift his head again. "I promised to save you? Are you sure? When was that? I can't remember a single thing, I'm so sorry. Was I by chance tipsy? Did we- did we have sex?"

"S-sex?" he stuttered, utterly confused until he realised Hoseok must have meant the most recent time he promised to keep him safe. "You sucked my dick, but you weren't drunk, and it was only recently. You said you'll keep me safe, turned off the light and then left even though you promised."

There was a chuckle that felt like a warm blanket that he wanted to snuggle into, before those arms pulled him up until their faces aligned. There was blush on the pale cheeks and those eyes were still out of reach, so dark and a little confusing and intimidating somehow. "No, I mean you keep saying that I promised, and you said it before too, before I sucked your dick. So, I was wondering if we by chance met before and were in bed together and I was tipsy and said something I can't remember just like I can't remember that we met."

_It's still the truth._

"We were in bed, with stickers," he murmured and wrapped his arms around Hoseok's neck again. His thoughts kept repeating but the worry was still there, the fear that the man in his arms was going to stand up and leave again just like before. "We were also in a small garden and you asked me if I hid my spaceship."

Silence covered them and only his own heartbeat and Hoseok's exhales entered his ears. Those arms seemed to protect him from any other sounds he could usually hear, the steps on the corridor or the vibrating of the laptop when the ventilator went on.

"Uhm… hit me if I sound like I'm crazy, but… are you... by chance the little alien? There's no way, right?" Hoseok laughed nervously and leaned back, trying to catch his gaze as so often.

His heart skipped a beat and he felt utterly excited as he pushed against the broad shoulders to turn Hoseok on his back and climb on top of him. The smile on his lips was difficult to fight and he allowed it to take over his whole face, wriggling his arms a little because it was really the truth now.

_Because he remembers._

Nodding furiously, he hummed to make sure that Hoseok understood before leaning in and kissing his lips quickly a few times in succession.

"Oh my god. Oh my fucking god, like- what are the odds? It's been years, how is that even possible?" The handsome man lay on the mat and stared at him, murmuring those words quietly, as if they weren't meant for him to hear.

He grinned, feeling even more excited and proud of himself.

"I told you that I'll find you," he whispered back and licked over the curved mouth and the narrow nose, too happy not to.

"Now that I think about it, it makes sense that I didn't recognize your name because I called you alien most of the time and it makes sense that I didn't recognize your face, it's been years. Thinking about it, making out with your childhood friend is another level of weird. How old were we even before I moved away? Nine?" Hoseok still looked shaken and in thought, observing him intently.

He really wished that he could read thoughts, but as every time that he found himself wishing for the skill, the other man's thoughts remained a mystery.

"Ten," he corrected until he decided to be more precise, "and one month for me. It was seven months for you."

"Holy fucking shit. You got your PhD and are a successful scientist now. I can still remember how you wanted to program a robot that would explain your behaviour and thoughts to people."

This time it was his turn to chuckle, recognising his own childish thoughts back when he didn't know much about humans. "I know by now, that nobody would have bothered to listen to it anyway."

"Mhm. Growing up sucks, doesn't it? One thinks that there will be more understanding and problems get less when they get more complicated, less solvable and people show no understanding. I'm still happy to see that you're doing fine, little alien." Hoseok reached for his hair and stroked over it with a warm smile on his face. It felt so good that he instantly brushed against the touch, trying to keep it for longer.

_He really remembers now, and he's nice._

Again, he wriggled, unable to help it and let himself fall on top of Hoseok right after. His lips found the delicious curved ones, kissing them once again, but longer.

"But why… why the whole story with the wedding? I still don't understand. Can you explain?"

_He… doesn't understand?_

He tilted his head in question and waited a little, but no more words followed. Then he shifted to sit more comfortably on Hoseok's lap while drawing nonsensical patterns on the muscular chest with his index fingers.

"Because you promised. You promised, so why would you be with her? It's a promise."

"Because I promised?" Silence followed, thick and unmoving, surrounding them like bars before Hoseok's voice sounded again, making it more bearable. "Wait… is it because of what I told you? What I told you about being twenty-five?"

"It's not something you told me," he murmured and leaned closer to make looking at those black eyes more bearable because they were so close. "It's something that you promised."

"What is the difference? I was ten years old and I told my friend that he won't be alone, but I moved away, and you stayed and now you're a scientist and I'm a person without a future. So many things changed. I changed, and you did too."

_There's no… difference?_

He listened, and he heard every word, but somehow the meaning didn't reach his mind, didn't become obvious the longer he repeated the words. There was a big difference between simple words and a promise, because the promise was the truth. No matter what was going to happen, it had to be fulfilled.

_He's the one who saves you, because he promised._

"But you promised," he repeated his words from before, feeling how reality and the things around him seemed to blur and slip through his fingers, just like the world did as soon as he stopped pretending.

"But how can a child that has no control over their life be held accountable for something that they said? Why is it so important to you? I don't understand. You keep repeating it like a mantra, but what is the point of it? It won't change the reality, will it?" Hoseok sat up and looked at him, both hands resting on top of his thighs loosely, without touching him.

_It won't change reality?_

Again, the sentence repeated inside his head, endlessly without reaching a conclusion. What did that mean? What was the reality that wasn't going to change?

"You signed a paper, with your name. It's like- like a contract," he tried and wondered why the touches were reducing, why it was the silence that felt so loud this time, loud enough to be painful. He wanted to erase it with one of those low chuckles, with kisses, with pleasure. Anything.

"But Hyungwon… there's a reason why only signatures from people over eighteen years old are legally binding. We were kids. We talked about the things we were concerned about as kids, it has nothing to do with our reality now. I missed you when I moved away, but then we've never seen each other again, so what am I supposed to say to that? I might have told you things, but I was a child. How could I have known what it means?" A sigh followed, and the dark eyes closed, only leaving inhales and exhales that blended into the pressuring silence around them.

"What does that mean?" he whispered, feeling his whole body burn and tremble as he tried to arrange himself such that the texture of the carpet was brushing over his face. It didn't help, it didn't help at all. "I- I don't understand. Why would anybody promise things they don't mean? That's- that's why it's a promise, because- because it needs to be kept."

"Is everything okay?" Warm fingers wrapped around his shoulder, but he didn't move. "I meant it, but I was ten years old. I had no idea about life or what is realistic. I just wanted you to feel better, that's it."

_Feel better. That's it._

"Empty," he whispered and let his fingers rub over the texture of the carpet, but he couldn't really feel it, as if it was blank. "An empty promise. Empty, empty, empty."

"Why do you still remember? Why is it so important to you? We've been kids, Hyungwon, little kids who just played around and exchanged stickers. Why does it matter if the promise was empty?" Hoseok stayed seated and looked at him, fingers still wrapped around his shoulder. He couldn't feel those either, just like the softness of the carpet. Only his thoughts and the crippling sensation in his chest was left, the blurriness that covered everything around him and broke everything else apart like a dry piece of bread.

A sob escaped his lips and the sound was so painfully loud in his ears, like a siren that warned him, told him that everything was falling apart. There was no promise anymore, no safety, no solution no matter what happened. There was nothing at all, nothing but him and his inability to be human. Nothing mattered anymore, there was no point.

"Because I believed it," he replied and allowed everything around him to turn blank.

***

_Your life went down the drain because of a promise you made as a ten-year-old._

The thought circled inside his head endlessly, but he still struggled to understand.

He struggled to understand what the odds were of meeting a childhood friend he had lost contact with after so many years had passed. The little alien he hung around with, the boy he had exchanged Naruto stickers with, built spaceships out of garbage with, the boy he had promised to be with. The little boy he had promised to marry when they both turned twenty-five.

There was nothing more innocent than a child's promise, but what was apparently even more innocent, was the persistent belief that he had to fulfil that promise. That no matter what happened in between, he had to remember his words and simply do whatever he had said back then, whatever he had scribbled with his terrible handwriting on a piece of paper, sealing it with a Naruto stamp.

_He believed it. He is twenty-five, but he still thinks that you will save him._

It felt unreal. The mess that his feelings constructed inside his chest and the thoughts rushing through his mind easily pushed a brief scary association aside. The association that suddenly appeared out of nowhere, connecting the person who curled up on the carpet to the person he was in love with, the man on the other side of the wall.

_What are the odds? It can’t be, right?_

It was ridiculous, but not as unreal as reality was right now. He stared at the curled-up person who was shaking and hugging his naked torso, sobbing quietly because…

Because he had said that the promise didn't mean anything. That he wouldn't go ahead and keep it only because he said it when he was a child. How could he? How could he just go ahead and be with someone, if he had nothing to give, no skill to save anybody and if there was another person he was in love with. 

_Another person. A person who says he isn’t one._

A person he has never seen. An alien that could have been someone on the street that he bumped into, apologized and moved on, someone who took out an umbrella when it rained and walked past, a man who he was supposed to work with.

_There is no way. You would have realised._

He probably would have. He didn't need to see the man on the other side of the wall to feel the way he did. It was there. The understanding that connected them through stones and walls.

"Why is it so important? You don't even know me? Do you like me? Probably not… so why?" he tried again, pulling the shaking body from the mat and wrapping his arms around it. "Don't cry, please. I don't understand this, fuck. Why would you think some random friend from your childhood would come and save you from whatever? You don't need to be saved, Hyungwon, you're doing amazing! You're successful and smart and you grew up being so handsome too. You don't… you don't need me."

There was no reply, only uncontrollable shaking as the man in his arms shook his head furiously as if it was going to change something. Fingers held onto his naked arms, applying more pressure than he was comfortable with and squeezing in a rhythmic pattern. He could feel tears against his chest, their heat and how they rolled down his skin uncontrollably, almost like he hadn't said anything in the first place.

"Alone," the low voice suddenly whispered, rough from crying. "Alone, alone, alone. I'll be alone. Alone, alone, alone."

"No- no, why would you be alone? You're not alone," he whispered, hissing in between because his skin hurt under the pressure of those nails. What was wrong with today, why was it the second person who collapsed because of something he said, something he did? Why was it because he had said no to things he wasn't comfortable with? The truth. "Do you need anything? Medication or anything else? Fuck- you're shaking." The anxiety was quick to come, and he asked himself if it would be good to call somebody, but what if it made it worse? "Should I call somebody?"

The head shaking only got worse and so did the grip, this time travelling all the way to his neck as Hyungwon wrapped around him like a snake.

"They'll know. No, no, no, they'll know," the low voice kept muttering accompanied by the round nose rubbing over his neck, back and forth. "They'll know I'm not human. Not human at all. They'll see it. See it, see it all."

_Remember how he said he isn't human? It feels strange to hear it so often, doesn't it? It is strange, but it can’t be. It simply can’t._

Those words repeated inside his head, the complete conversation, as if it had been just yesterday when they sat on the broken steps of the apartment building across, stacked stones and he had tried his best to understand why his friend thought he was cursed to a life of loneliness. A life of loneliness that he would only be able to escape if there was a promise. A promise to save him.

_You didn't remember, but he did. He remembered it all this time, growing up and thinking about it. About your words._

"Were you…" he started, feeling scared and flexing from the pain in his muscles that he seemed to experience more intensely with every passing second. "Were you by chance waiting for me, Hyungwon?"

"You promised," the other man whispered instead of replying, repeating the words several times in succession until he didn't have enough oxygen for them and inhaled sharply. "When I'm twenty-five and nobody loves me. You promised."

_Fuck._

He cursed out loud, experiencing a moment of complete weakness and letting go of the slim body before wrapping his arms even tighter, pulling him even closer and unable to say a single word for a long time.

"It can't be that nobody loves you. I told you back then, it's impossible that you won't find anyone, and I still think that way. I didn't know who you were, only that you ruined my wedding, you took away a person I loved, and my future and I still came here with sushi and kissed you and made you come. Make it make sense. I love someone else, but I'm still here. Why? Because you're special. I guess it's because you are, and I couldn't help it."

"Because it's you," Hyungwon whispered, hugging him tighter and rubbing the tears on his face onto his cheek and neck. "You, you, you. You are the only one. You know that I'm not human and you like me. You, you, _you_."

"No. I didn't know anything before you told me. You waited for me and I couldn't remember a single thing. I'm not special, I'm like literally any other person on this earth. God, I'm so sorry that I made you cry and I'm so sorry that you took it seriously, waiting for me and thinking that I had any ability to save anyone. I'm sorry, I can't even save myself. But… but it will be okay! You are smart and gorgeous, and very attractive. You will find a person who loves you, I'm sure of it. How could anybody not love you, little alien?" He kissed the top of Hyungwon's head and it smelled so familiar that he was shaken for a few moments.

It smelled like cherry.

Like him.

_How?_

"Why-" Hyungwon sobbed again, sound painful to hear as it tugged at something unpleasant in his chest. The small face lifted from his shoulder and met his gaze. The big, round eyes were wet and a little swollen, just like the plump mouth that had been kissing his own cheerfully only moments ago. Back when the other man had believed that he not only remembered but was also going to fulfil a childish promise that he made. "Why can't you just love me?"

_Because you already love someone else._

"I don't know you and I- I am in love with somebody else," he whispered, carefully brushing those tears away as he was the one to avoid the big eyes because it hurt so much to see. "You don't love me either, Hyungwon. I know that you don't. Why would you? I'm not the cheerful kid from back then, I have so many issues you don't know about and probably don't want to know about either. I'm… just me. Why would you want that?"

"But-" Again there was sobbing and Hyungwon hugged him tighter, as if terrified that he was going to leave any second. "But you're still Hoseok. Isn't- isn't that enough? You're Hoseok and only Hoseok likes me. _HoseokHoseokHoseok_. Only Hoseok."

He shook his head and sat back in the hope to put some distance between them, but instead, he made Hyungwon climb on his lap desperately to not lose contact. "It's not enough. I don't want to make you miserable and I don't want to make myself miserable either. Can't you… can't you forget about that promise and look at it differently? See it like two childhood friends meeting after such a long time, because that's what it is."

There was no reply at first, only a rough inhale followed by silence as if his words had been too much to take. Another wave of trembles passed through the slim body and only made him feel more helpless, helpless in sparing both of them the misery.

"It's not," Hyungwon whispered finally and shook his head. "It's not. It's not because you are the only person there is. What am I supposed to do now? There is nothing I can do. _Nothingnothingnothing_. Nothing I can do. Nothing."

The way the other man repeated words was terrifying, like thoughts that he spoke out loud uncontrollably, making it seem worse with each repetition.

Maybe he was doing the wrong thing, maybe he needed to pull the attention towards his words and the point he was trying to make. He grabbed Hyungwon's small face with both hands and leaned forward, forcing their gazes to meet. "It will be okay, Hyungwon. Do you hear me? It will be fine. You're not about to die tomorrow and waiting for the love of your life to come and save you. You're twenty-five, handsome and a bit cute, misunderstanding and expecting something from a person who has nothing to give. There are people out there and there will be someone for you. You don't need me. You don't need me, Hyungwon. Do you understand?"

Big eyes met his, but still he didn't feel like Hyungwon was really looking at him. Rather, the other man appeared to focus on the space in between, something that he had no access to.

A hum was his only reply, low and instead of sounding broken, it was apathetic this time. As if somebody had pulled the plug and there was no strength to be hurt anymore.

"You believe that because you are human," Hyungwon murmured, smiling slightly while remaining utterly unfocused. The sight was difficult to bear along with the lack of intonation in the low voice. Hyungwon sounded like a robot. "Humans find their opposite or their copy and live together. Beings like me have nobody. Nobody at all. Only promises. _Promisespromisespromises_. _Broken_ promises."

_Promises._

His thoughts stopped and pulled him back to the wall, the talk about promises, the aftermath, the cherry shower gel that he had massaged into the warm skin and hair that he couldn’t see. It couldn’t be. It was simply impossible.

_Your thoughts stem from lack of sleep. You're losing focus._

"But you believe promises matter when they don't. It's just words that you say that might change their meaning with time. They become something else entirely. I don't need to be the same to understand what you mean. You might have needed the thought of me saving you, but not the reality of it. The way you must've imagined it is simply not the truth." He shook his head and held the air inside his lungs for a few moments before exhaling. "What do you need to feel better? Back then I closed your ears, remember? Tell me. What do you need?"

The arms tightened around his neck, but it felt like a stone finally rolled off his chest when Hyungwon nodded and pressed his face into the crook of his neck, breathing heavily. Still, there was no reply, only regular breaths and a grip that remained tight and constant, no matter how much time passed.

"You," Hyungwon finally broke the silence. "I need you."

_He doesn’t listen, he-_

"You don't. You really don't. Does it really matter that I wrote it down? Do you want me to write down something else? Let me get a piece of paper, I'll do it." He peeled the arms from his body and got up, feeling dizzy and quickly pulled out one of the drawers to take out the first piece of paper that he found. He wasn't sure if he could write on it, so he held it in front of him. "Can I write on this?" he asked, glancing at a paper object that was glued to the backside. An object that seemed so unreal and at the same time familiar, but maybe it was just his head making up something that wasn't there.

A swan.

"N-no!" Hyungwon yelled suddenly before ripping both the paper and the swan from his hands, holding them protectively to his chest with wide eyes. Those long fingers were careful to straighten the paper and rearrange the swan on top of it. Only now he could see that the sheet was blue, resembling a lake with words scribbled on top of it in messy handwriting. The form of the words seemed regular, almost like a poem.

"It's my swan lake, it already has words! They are important too." A kiss was placed on the head of the swan before Hyungwon placed it back into its drawer and reached for an empty sheet of paper from the printer. "You… you can use this."

_It's yours._

He couldn't speak, not after seeing the swan on a blue sheet of paper, not after seeing those big eyes and the expression on the handsome face as the person in front of him suddenly became somebody else, somebody he thought he knew, a person he spent most of his time thinking about. What were the odds, right? But they were all here, simultaneously, making him nauseous and dizzy. The words circled in his head, not making any sense, not saying anything but the two words ‘it’s him’ repeatedly.

_Him, him, him._

"Did you make this?" he asked quietly and pointed at the closed drawer, hoping for something, anything that could explain what just happened. Why an object from a parallel reality ended up being in his current one, in the middle of the day, with shadows all over the table, the printer, over the golden skin, those hands that held a blank page in front of him like a mocking gesture, laughing at him and the shadow that he was.

"N-no," Hyungwon stuttered and stood in front of the drawer as if he wanted to keep it safe. Safe from him. The empty sheet of paper fell uselessly to the floor, breaking the silence before the other man's hesitant voice did. "I only copied the poem and let the swan swim on my blue lake, but… a special person made the swan and wrote the poem."

_A special person?_

"A special… person?" he whispered, mirroring his thoughts and walking back until there was a wall he could lean against. He needed the stability, something to hold onto because it felt like his whole world was falling apart and he was just a shadow of himself, unable to react and to fight, unable to stop it from crumbling. "Why don't you want to show me? Didn't you want me to save you a second ago, saying that I'm the only one who can help you?"

A hint of sadness appeared on Hyungwon's face as he nodded slowly, still not stepping away from the drawer.

"You are. There are three important humans in my life, but only one that can save me. I- I'm twenty-five now, so it's too late." He observed how the tall man stroked along his desk and towards the drawer but didn't open it. "I look at the swan because it makes me happy. Do you… do you want to feel happy too? I can show you if you want to. You're special too, my saviour."

_It’s too late?_

Hyungwon's fingers were shaking as he opened the drawer again and lifted the blue sheet of paper into the air, along with the small swan attached to it. It looked so fragile and the way the other man held it in his big palms made it seem even more breakable, a little treasure along with black words written on top of a deep blue.

_It's yours. You made it. You made it for… for him._

"Fuck," he whispered and closed his eyes to feel some of the darkness, to calm down from the dizziness that threatened to swallow him. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Hyungwon seemed confused as he stepped closer towards him, still holding the paper in his flat palms.

"Here," the low voice whispered and removed one hand to reach for his wrists and lift them up as well, just like he held his own hands. Carefully, the blue sheet and the swan were placed on top of his stretched-out palms, feeling surreal while a smile appeared on Hyungwon's face. "It'll make you feel better."

Instead of holding onto the paper, those big palms were stroking over his shoulders now, adding warmth while his eyes slipped to the curvy black writing on blue paper. The poem he had written, his words that travelled with his senses back into his mind, adding more meaning to the situation and making the poem feel like so much more because he knew. Because he knew but couldn’t show it. It was too late.

"If only I could touch you

Like ink stroking paper

Always knowing what to say," he read out loud and closed his eyes to not faint from the way his own words made him feel.

"Hyungwon…" he muttered, before looking up again and catching the look in the big eyes, the emotions that seemed to be there, closed up and unable to escape further than the widened pupil. He managed to hold the gaze for a split second that felt like an eternity to him, an eternity full of silence that he broke with a single truth, words so real that there was nothing else he could have said. "I… I think that person loves you."

***

Light turned off around him, one by one. It started out slowly like a chain of Christmas lights that emphasised its length by turning the little lamps on and off in succession, creating a path of light. It should have been bright and warm, lighting up to show the way. The only difference was that with him it was a path of darkness.

_Don't you like the dark?_

The dark was his second home, the place he found peace and was able to focus on his thoughts. Each light that turned off has always been welcome because it allowed him to focus on the things around him, on his thoughts and feelings, those things that humans were always aware of. The feelings he discovered whenever there were no lights helped him to learn and understand. They did, but not now.

_Why does it hurt so much?_

The lights had turned off, leaving nothing but his heartbeat and what must have been his own quiet humming, not loud enough for anybody but him to hear but still just right to drown out every other noise inside his head. Everything should have been perfect, calm and quiet just the way he liked it. Nothing but him, the real him and his thoughts.

_Only that you hate your thoughts._

He thought of the promise that he had, of the way the words looked written on the piece of paper he had kept. It still looked almost new because he had taken care of it so well. It was precious to him, so the black marker on the white paper looked as if it was still fresh. Only the sticker had lost some of its sticking ability and peeled off at the edges, but whenever it did he made sure to fix it back to the paper. He liked to think of that written promise, of the way it looked and the way it made him feel. It made him happy because it was a source of comfort, something he had been sure about.

But suddenly thinking of that promise didn’t feel good anymore. Instead, it seemed like the handwritten paper was a grotesque vision from his dream, something that he had imagined and that didn’t really exist. Something that his mind had made up as an excuse for the inability to be like everybody else.

_You thought there was somebody to save you, but there is nobody. No promise and no person._

Somehow it didn’t even feel like the promise had been broken, but rather that he had been the one to make the mistake in the first place. He had been naive enough to believe that a promise was good enough to make somebody stay with him, to make a human want to choose him instead of another human.

_Even if that human is Hoseok._

A promise wasn't strong enough to achieve that. He should have learned over the years that he had spent on his own, the years that he didn't meet anybody who was remotely like Hoseok. There was no person like that and now even Hoseok was claiming that the little boy didn't exist anymore. The little boy who made him feel like he belonged.

Nobody had ever claimed that they liked him, nothing beyond routine comments that he had learned didn’t mean anything. 'You're cute' was meaningless and so was 'you're hot'. All of them disappeared as soon as he spoke of commitment and a promise. The years that he had lived until twenty-five were enough to learn that humans rarely meant what they said. Every word was like jewellery, shiny and attention-grabbing, but while the attention remains on the shiny stones everything surrounding them remains hidden, like a secret that nobody cares about.

_Your pretence is a secret like that._

His existence was a secret that nobody cared about, a being that existed but wasn’t meant to. Hoseok had said that his expectations weren’t the truth, despite the promise that had made him happy all these years.

It was possible, after all he wasn’t a human and maybe he was naive about what humans were capable of, naive to believe that there might be one who decides to be with him instead of another human after all. A promise had made it seem possible, but things are rarely as they seem. Maybe he was meant to be alone, just like he had always been. Different and alone because humans have their second half on their own planet. If the number of humans alive right now adds up, then he would have to be the odd one out, right? The one left after all children sit down on the available chairs. All apart from him.

_But there is somebody who said that they like you, somebody who writes beautiful words and explains the unexplainable._

As soon as his eyes fell on his blue lake, the one that was finally less lonely because it had a swan, he finally remembered. He remembered the man who spoke of liking him, the man who kissed him and wrote him letters and said that even though he wasn’t human he was still liked. A man who was just a few days too late.

_If only you had met him before that, before your twenty-fifth birthday. Then you wouldn’t be a failure._

Hoseok wouldn’t have understood, so he didn’t explain it. He protected the little poem as well as he could, even from somebody who he wanted to marry. There was something precious about the swan and its lake, like a secret that he shared with somebody special, somebody who didn’t exist to anybody but him because they only met in the dark.

_As if he is your special person and nobody else’s._

Holding the delicate paper figure felt fragile and important, like a crucial task that was handed to him without considering his inability to stay still. He could see the way his fingers trembled, but still he held them as straight as possible on his way to hand his little secret to Hoseok. It should have been his secret to keep, but the devastation on the beautiful face made him want to erase it, to make him feel better with the secret source of happiness that he had. A swan on a lake of blue intimacy.

Hoseok held the blue paper in his hands, not moving them a single inch even though his own had been shaking uncontrollably. The pleasant voice read the words written on the lake, emphasizing each one and thereby returning the picture in his mind that reading them for the first time had painted. It seemed like he could feel the poem, even though it were words that he never knew how to understand.

“Hyungwon, I… I think that person loves you,” the man in front of him whispered suddenly, filling the silence that was still full from the poem and how well each single word fit to the next. He inhaled sharply, attempting to return the words to his mind and at the same time to understand what Hoseok meant. Love was a strong human concept, one that required promises too, promises like those of marriage. How could Hoseok know whether the person behind the wall loved him?

_Because he is human, and he can understand._

“It’s intimacy,” he whispered and pointed at the words on the blue lake. They were one of the first things that the man behind the wall had been able to teach him. He even taught him how to act and make sure that Hoseok wasn’t hurt by his words and actions anymore. Thinking about the man behind the wall made him happy, just like the swan, but at the same time it brought back the reason he could barely focus the whole day at work.

“It is intimacy, but… that person rejected me.”

"They… rejected you? What do you mean?" Hoseok looked at him first, but then returned his gaze to the words that he had written down on the blue paper. The handsome man used his index finger to stroke over them, as if he was writing them too, with his hands and invisible ink.

_Maybe he feels the same way when he reads them?_

He didn’t like to think about the way the man behind the wall rejected him, how he said 'no' even though it was something that humans considered desirable. There must have been something wrong about him to not be considered desirable. After all, most humans weren’t alone for as long as he was.

_And you made it even worse by losing yourself and crying._

“They saw that I really am an alien,” he murmured and rubbed his eyes to distract himself from the way they burned and immediately made him want to cry again. He had cried a lot already and nothing had changed. His grandma always said he had to turn his tears into actions because otherwise they were wasted. He didn’t want to waste them anymore, but he just didn’t know how. “Humans don’t like aliens because they are scary. Don’t you think that I am scary?”

Hoseok carefully put the lake back on his table, as if he understood the meaning it had and tried to keep it safe before turning and jumping to sit on top of his office desk. "No, I don't. I was scared that I did something, and you needed help that I couldn't provide. You kept repeating words too, but- I don't think that you are scary, Hyungwon. I think all of this is scary, but you are not. I also don't think that the person who wrote those words thinks that you are scary. You don't want to tell me what happened, I guess. It's okay, I'm a nobody. But I think that no matter what, you must be very precious to them."

_A nobody?_

He could feel his eyes widen as he shook his head furiously before wrapping his arms around Hoseok’s neck. The man in front of him was everything but a nobody. He was the little boy with the round eyes who promised to be with him.

“But you’re my saviour,” he whispered and kissed Hoseok’s warm cheek, wondering if that was better than his words. Maybe he didn’t know how to explain, but when they were close like humans were it made more sense?

_Maybe you are less like an alien then?_

"I’m not. I am a nobody, no matter how you look at it. I'm a shadow you don't know and I'm an image of a person that you built up inside your mind, a person that doesn't exist, so I'm a concept, not a human." Hoseok was staring at his eyes, his nose and lips, as if there was suddenly something strange or unusual about them. "Does that special person know that you consider me a saviour? Even though I didn't do anything to earn that title."

He struggled to understand and didn’t really have an answer, so he shook his head slowly just in case. He had told the man behind the wall about the people who were important to him and his first kiss, also about promises, so he told him everything important, right?

_You were scared to tell him because he said that promises don’t matter._

“But you’re here,” he murmured instead and hugged Hoseok’s neck, squeezing to show that he was physical and made of atoms like everything else. “You are here, and I am hugging you, so you exist.”

_And you are not alone._

He smiled because suddenly it seemed like the darkness from before, the loudness of his thoughts, was just a bad dream and now there was only warmth and the blue lake again. The poem that made him feel good, the man behind the wall who made him feel good too and Hoseok who was going to save him now that he was twenty-five.

"And when I walk out of that door, I will stop existing. Is that it? Because I will have to leave, so you won't be able to touch me like this. To be honest, I feel like fainting and my head is killing me, I have no idea what is happening, and the implications are driving me insane. You aren't crying, and you seem to feel better now, so I'm going to go," the low voice murmured without any intonation before the body shifted under him and slipped out of his hold.

It felt like being thrown into ice-cold water, sudden and just as painful as when the man behind the wall told him that he didn’t want to be close to him, to take something that humans were always supposed to want.

_Do you have to feel bad to not be alone?_

He held his breath, sucking the air through his lips loudly because it tuned out every other sound for the few seconds that he did it. If he was human, would he know what to say? Would it be easier to make another human stay?

“Will you come back?” he whispered, hands hanging loosely at his sides while his fingers already yearned to grasp for the blue lake with the swan, anything that could make that feeling go away.

"I think… you're so focused on that one promise that doesn't hold any meaning, that you don't see that you're actually loved, little alien," Hoseok said before pushing the handle and disappearing. Just like that.

_He said he will save you. He did it two times. One, two._

He remained standing next to his office desk, furiously trying to remember what he should be doing, what the next step would be. There had to be something that needed to be done, anything to make him feel better and forget about the words that returned right back into his mind, as if they had never left.

_Promises are meaningless, but it's too late to be loved._

_

One foot landed in front of the other, one-two, one-two, one-two. A hint of red and car noises, so the feet stopped moving. They were waiting, waiting for the noises to fade and for red to transform into green. As soon as it did they resumed, one-two, one-two, one-two.

The day was almost over, and the sun was close to the horizon, a sign that he had worked enough. There was no need to see the sun though, he knew from the way his thoughts moved in circles that the day had come to an end. There was nothing left of him, of his thoughts and of his self. As always, pretence and his attempts to be human have eaten all the full-fledged thoughts that were his from the inside. There was only his human-like shell now and fragments that played like a broken record player.

_Promises were meaningless and broken easily. Nothing is the same anymore. You will be alone. It is too late to be loved._

Sometimes those thoughts were mixed and created sentences that didn't quite make sense, but he didn't even realise and merely placed one foot in front of the next. It was easier that way.

His fingers opened the door to the apartment building and he walked up the wooden steps, listening to the screeching noise that sounded whenever he walked close to the railing. It sounded calming, like something that he expected and that happened just the way he expected it. Somehow nothing else was going according to his expectations.

_Promises are meaningless. There is no promise, there is nobody. Not for you. It's too late to be loved._

His feet stopped in front of his door and he stared at it, observed the few scratches that were there when he moved in. It was the place he knew, the place that had his carpet and helped him recover. It was the apartment that was going to help him pretend again. He only needed a few hours of nothing, a few hours of no sound and then he would be just like before. He was going to go to work again, program and talk to humans and forget that he was all on his own. He was going to forget that there was nobody for him anymore, that even though he had a promise and felt so sure, it didn't matter at all. Because humans lie, and humans change.

He feared change. Change was the one thing that took his expectations and ripped them into tiny little pieces. So tiny that he could never put them together again, not even with glue. His expectations were ripped now, flying around inside his head and not making any sense. Only the soft fabric of a carpet made sense, the sounds of steps in the apartment next door and the soft exhales of the man that liked him just a few days too late.

His gaze travelled and landed on the mat lying in front of the apartment next to his. It looked soft and he remembered sitting next to it, sitting there and listening to the pleasant low voice.

Did he have to return to his apartment? It was a break in routine, but then again, everything was. He couldn't think, and he couldn't let go. He needed to calm down and feel happy, but his swan was in his office and the only one who had been able to calm him down was the man next door, him and his warm arms.

_But he rejected you._

A sob developed in his throat, but he couldn't give in to it again. His grandma had told him to act, so he did the only thing he felt capable of. Sinking to his knees, he slowly crawled towards the doormat in front of the other man's apartment and curled up on top of it. He felt the bushy fabric against his cheek and smelt mud and rain, but it was still better than the sentences repeating inside his head. The broken promises and the rejection that he knew was going to repeat.

Like this he was close to the one thing that was able to make him happy. As close as an alien could be.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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CHAPTER 11

_“But if you’re an alien… will you… will you go back some day?”_

_“I would if I could, but I don't even know my planet.”_

_“I would like it if you could stay here. With me.”_

_

The possibilities were endless, and he wished there was a control mechanism to determine whether and how exactly his senses, his awareness, his constant overthinking and attention to detail had played into this situation, making it the mess that it was right at this moment.

_What if you used_

_your thoughts_

_To make something purposeful_

_Into an innocent meeting_

_A strike of fate_

_Intimacy._

The thought was scary but didn’t let him go. How could he have ignored it? Wasn’t he able to hear, to smell, to read? All those things were screaming at him to pay a little more attention because then the solution, the truth would’ve presented itself without any effort, but he chose to stay oblivious. There was no other reason, so it must’ve been a choice he had made. Consciously or subconsciously. A choice was a choice and he knew himself too well to act as if he wasn’t part of the whole mess.

_It’s him._

“Fuck,” he muttered once again, still not having slept a single second and walking aimlessly around the neighbourhood, hoping for rain and clarity, but there was nothing apart from loud cars and the smelly fine dust surrounding him and infiltrating his body like the creepy thoughts of how he created two realities with one single person. One where he was a shadow of himself, unable to save anyone and to keep any childish promises and another, where he could become a word, a sentence, a line of understanding that he carefully created between himself and the person behind the wall. He could be a swan, a moon, a piece of paper and ink stroking it and always knowing what to say. He could be a warm touch of fingers, the low voice to create calm and warm arms to comfort. He could be all that for the person behind the wall, for the person who he fell in love with, if darkness remained between them.

_He won’t be able to handle it. He will not accept that the childhood friend, the saviour is the same person that stays behind the wall and writes poems for him._

He walked up the stairs, looking at how the shadows of his shoes moved step after step, how they bridged the dirty floor between the stairs and the door to his apartment and how they stopped in front of a body that lay curled up on the dirty mat in front of the door.

It was dark, but not as dark and his first instinct had been to turn away, scared to be seen and recognized, however, the person on his mat wasn’t aware of his arrival and he leaned closer to check if there was something wrong.

_He fell asleep in front of your door._

How cruel was it that he had been the reason for the other man to feel terrible and at the same time was considered the solution to it? The special person. The words and warm arms, but also the rejection. A rejection that he had explained but didn’t get a reply to. A rejection that hung over them like an unspoken curse. He would have done the same anytime, but Hyungwon didn’t see the reasoning. Didn’t understand.

Hyungwon.




Hyungwon.

He bit on his lip, cursing himself and his mind, his inability to see something that was so bright and apparent and opened the door quietly, without waking up the person in front of it. First, he changed into a fresh white shirt and shorts before crouching in front of the curled-up body and using his strength to carefully lift it and carry it to his bed.

He was tired and hadn’t been able to sleep, he went through so many emotions at once, was confused, hungry and dizzy. He hated himself for not recognizing it, for choosing to ignore whatever signs have been there but somehow the person in front of him, Hyungwon, must’ve been feeling worse, tired and empty enough to curl up on the dirty mat in front of his door and fall asleep right there.

He felt the muscle tension in the slim body change briefly, but Hyungwon didn't wake up. The handsome man was breathing softly, tickling the skin on his upper arm as his body hung loosely in his grip, like a child that let go completely while asleep. The sight was vulnerable somehow and made him pay even more attention to the motions of his arms or the strength he used to hold the relaxed body.

Walking around the bed, he took off the shoes from the slim feet and placed them next to his own before reaching for the delicate neck to feel the temperature. It seemed cool, so he took his blanket and covered Hyungwon with it.

The darkness hasn't been there when he came in, but he created more of it by closing the blinds and the door, by surrounding them with the night air that entered through the window that he opened and by kneeling at the bed that screeched when he let go of the body in his arms. Kneeling and staring at the shadows, so fragile, one might have thought he was making them up. There was no place for shadows in the dark.

It was fascinating how other people slept, but it was even more fascinating how Hyungwon slept. The small face showed a state of calm that he was envious of, just like the body simply melted into the soft blanket so naturally, easily. It wasn't his apartment, it wasn't his bed, but still…

"You are really beautiful when you are asleep," he murmured and lifted his index finger, carefully drawing the shape of those eyebrows that he had seen, the nose bridge and the round curve of his nose, the full lips, bottom one smaller than the top one and so soft. He knew it and it couldn't have been hard to figure it out. He must've felt reluctant to.

_You took his first kiss without knowing and without appreciating it._

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Mmh?" Hyungwon hummed in question and turned on his side, capturing the blanket between his thighs. He seemed to be on the bridge of wakefulness as his eyes fluttered open a few times but didn't focus on anything. Only his face disappeared a little deeper in the fabric.

"Would you like to undress? You said that fabric makes you uncomfortable. My blanket should feel okay. Does it?" He crossed his arms on top of the bed and leaned his face against his arm to be able to look at Hyungwon's silhouette, his pretty side profile that looked as if it was sculpted by some talented artist. He must've been so unaware to not notice the similarities, the words, the sounds, the scent. Now everything was so painfully obvious to him.

Again, there was a hum and he saw the silhouette change as Hyungwon's lips pulled into a smile. It was so pleasant to see after witnessing the other man break down in tears.

"It's fluffy and smells like you. Cherry makes me happy. All good things smell like cherry." Hyungwon was mumbling and simultaneously attempting to slip out of his clothes. "I wished to be in your arms when I closed my eyes but hearing your voice and smelling your blanket is also nice. As if everything that happened is just a bad dream."

He knew he had been the reason for considering the reality a bad dream, but maybe he could be selfish and try to feel better too. Feel the warm body in his arms, in the darkness, without having to be a shadow of himself.

"Would you like to be in my arms right now?" he asked and shifted, reaching for the clothes that Hyungwon discarded and placing them next to the bed.

"Mmh," Hyungwon hummed and tapped the bed and blanket until those hands finally found him and instantly wrapped around his neck. He expected the other man to be satisfied with that, to have their faces close together, but Hyungwon didn't stay still. Instead, he simply crawled forward while still holding onto him, quick enough to force him to fall back on the floor with the slim body on top of him. He knew that the other man had undressed, but still having the warm, naked body against his own caught him off guard.

"Will you hug me because I want to or because you want to?" the low voice whispered in his ear.

"Because I want to. And because I'm happy that you want me to," he whispered back and wrapped his arms around Hyungwon's waist, feeling the warm exhales tickle his skin. He had to pay attention to his words, to how he addressed the person in his arms, to not make a mistake. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too." Hyungwon pressed a kiss to his cheek before adding more to his jaw and neck. "I was sad today, but I felt better when I saw the swan you made for me. I don't really know if I can explain the way it makes me feel, but it's warm and as if a cloud spreads inside my body. I want it to grow so big that I don't have to cry anymore."

Suddenly there was a gasp and the small face lifted from his shoulder, observing the darkness around them with wide eyes. Fingers dug into his upper arms, but he tried to ignore it. He knew that it must've been the thoughts of him that made the person in his arms suffer. Just like that he ended up being the devastation and the solution at the same time.

"You say that you want to hug me, but- but you didn't want to before. Because I'm not human."

"I don't think that's true. I didn't have a moment when I didn't want to hug you, little…" he stopped, biting on his bottom lip and focusing on the pain instead. "Little do you know, dear alien," he added for damage control.

"But…" Hyungwon didn't seem to notice, merely shifting on top of him and looking around as if there was anything to see but darkness and vague shapes. "But you said no, even though humans always say yes."

"You haven't read my letter. Why do you think I said no?" He focused on how warm Hyungwon's skin felt against his fingertips, how intense it felt to have him so close, close and unaware that he was the shadow that made him feel bad, a witness of a broken promise, a reason for misery and disappointment.

"Because I'm not human. Humans know what to say and how to act to make you feel good, but I don't. There must be something wrong with me. Maybe I don't feel that good from the inside." Hyungwon shrugged and it seemed as if he had accepted his own words as the truth without reacting to them anymore. He didn't tremble or stutter, only his fingers were restless and kept stroking over his hair repeatedly. "I used the wrong words and you like words, so I made you sad. I'm- I'm sorry, even if I don't know what I did wrong."

It was sad and impressive at the same time. How the person in his arms immediately thought that they had been at fault for whatever happened with such confidence. It hurt.

"It's not true. It's not the case at all. First, … First, I would be a terrible liar if I told you that I didn't want you. I did. A lot. I still do. I said no because I didn't want to use the moment and the fact that you didn't know what you were asking for. I didn't want to use it and I still don't want to use it. I want- I want you to feel all the good things in the world, but it needs quite some talking and time. I would've just hurt you and I didn't want to. I don't want to hurt you, but I do want you." He smiled and stroked over the warm back, enjoying Hyungwon's weight on top of him.

"Is it because you like words?" the low voice asked him, and he could hear the surprise laced into it. Hyungwon couldn't believe that his reasons for rejection were different ones. "Because you like words and therefore want to talk. I don't think humans talk about sex, they just do it. I saw it."

_This won't do._

Inhaling sharply, he held his breath for a few seconds before releasing it all at once. "No. Because if I fucked you as you asked me, you would've cried. I don't want you to be hurt, that's why it needs preparation, awareness of what you enjoy and what you don't, your boundaries and all that needs talking. How would I know if you like something if you didn't do it yet and didn't tell me whether you enjoy it? It makes no sense. Humans that just do it have no idea about consent."

"Oh," Hyungwon whispered and crawled a little higher on top of him, exhaling against his lips. "I know about preparation and everything that belongs to sex! But humans rarely talk about these things. They mostly do and adjust based on reactions. I know because I observed them for a long time to understand. They say nice things, but when it's about commitment, they change their minds and they don't say what they want immediately. I thought you were going to do the same, make all the lights turn off in my head and adjust depending on what happens. I think… I think you're an especially nice human."

"Never ever ask anybody else to have sex with you just like that. People aren't nice and expect you to know exactly what you're asking for. Are you telling me you watched porn? But porn isn't how sex really is. It's like you think that seeing one word makes you feel the whole poem, that can't be true, can it? We're talking about sex right now, aren't we? So, it's possible. It's a bit distracting that you are gorgeous and naked, but I'm holding it in well." Chuckling briefly, he continued roaming the other body, shifting briefly when it got slightly uncomfortable.

"But porn is like a movie, only without a plot," Hyungwon replied before rolling off him and hugging him sideways, one leg slipping in between his own. "Humans interact there and nobody tells them how, so it shows me how they are close. Looking at each other and reading the expressions. I can't do that, so I just trust the other person to do the right thing. I want pressure, so that's easy enough, isn't it?"

He shook his head and grabbed the small face, holding onto it to keep the attention on his words. "You are reckless, Mister. It's not easy at all and trust needs to be earned. You can't just trust random people like that, especially not with your body and your pleasure. You probably shouldn't even trust me, because you don't know enough to make a conscious decision. Porn is tricking you into thinking that something is a certain way when it's not. Not at all. Not in the slightest. You tell me what you tried out with yourself. What is it? You didn't explore what you enjoy with anybody else, right?"

Hyungwon was silent at first, head turned towards him, but it felt like even if there had been enough light those big eyes wouldn't have focused on him. He knew that they wouldn't have. He's seen it before.

"No," the low voice whispered eventually, and he didn't like the lack of emotions in the word. They reminded him of the way Hyungwon had talked at his office, like a robot. "No, because I'm always alone."

"But you aren't now, are you? And I was close to you before too. And you kissed someone too. There are things you know about, but they're simply not enough to tell for sure. You don't jump from kissing to fucking, that's oversimplified and bland. You're right, I do like talking, but I don't talk a lot when having sex because I'm busy feeling all kinds of things. Talking is necessary to get there." Talking about himself as a third person made him feel like the liar he was.

"We talked just now, does that mean…" Hyungwon suddenly pressed a kiss to his lips before using his grip on his shoulders to slip lower, low enough to press another right above the waistband of his shorts. "Does that mean I can make you feel all kinds of things now?"

"W- wait, what? Are you even listening, Mister? I just told you, you can't just go from kissing to having sex in three seconds. Don't misunderstand, I do want to be close to you. I do. I just don't want to hurt you in any way, so I'm a bit scared." He turned them and pushed Hyungwon against the wooden floor, hovering over him and exhaling against his full lips. "Didn't you want to stay on the bed?"

He heard a gasp, followed by a rough inhale as Hyungwon didn't move, remaining on the wooden floor below him. He could feel those big eyes watching him, even if he couldn't really see them. Instead of a reply, there were fingers travelling over his shoulders towards his neck, arms that wrapped around him and pulled him flush against Hyungwon's naked body. Nothing much had happened but being close alone seemed to be enough for the other man to react to him.

"You wouldn't hurt me," Hyungwon whispered against his lips and he felt and heard the smile in the words. "Because you said you like me."

"I won't. I hope that I won't, fuck," he gasped and attached his lips to the delicate neck. His mind integrated the golden tone of the warm skin, the motion of the blood pumping through the other man's veins that he could feel against his lips. "It's not that I don't want you because you're different. I want you because you are."

"Does that mean you like me more than another human?" the low voice asked him, quietly as if it feared the response. Hands roamed his body and shoulders and he could feel how they attempted to tug at the fabric of his shirt and pull it over his head, reducing the layers between them.

"I think I like you more than I've ever liked another human," he whispered and licked over the shell of Hyungwon's small ear, sucking on his earlobe. "What about me? Is it okay for you to be with someone like me?"

_A person who doesn't keep promises and deceives._

He expected an excuse, after all, most people gave excuses, thought up a reason why something that they desired was fine to have, fine to act upon. But there was no excuse, only a soft exhale and fingers that tightened around him once again.

“I don’t know,” Hyungwon whispered and brushed his nose over his cheek, like a brief caress that calmed him down as he spoke. “I’m already twenty-five, but I really want to.”

"Does it matter if you are? The only thing that matters is how you feel. I want to make you feel so happy and so good that you forget that you're twenty-five, that you forget about the fact that you feel like an alien, that you feel happy being yourself with me. Because I'm so happy being close to you. You're the only one who knows me. All of me. You know and still…" His breaths were raged as he slipped out of his shorts, lips travelling over the hot skin that smelled like cherry and tried to whisper those desperate words that still didn't manage to convey the way he felt.

“You… you already make me happy,” Hyungwon breathed out and tried to reach for him as soon as he moved back to undress. Those hands didn’t want to let go of him, brushed over his pecs and ribs, tugged at his arms. “I do not know words well, but I also feel like myself next to you. I do not have to pretend, and you never really said that I am strange. I just- I just act the way I am and somehow you still like me. I don’t understand but I think I like you too.”

"Come here." He lay on his back and pulled Hyungwon's light body on top of himself easily, grabbing his face and clashing their lips together, drowning in the way it felt to be close to the person you wanted, who understood you. "This is enough for me. You're more than enough for me."

“You know,” Hyungwon whispered as he carefully lay down on top of him and brushed their noses against each other, “I am really bad at reading human emotions from their faces. I never know if they are joking or serious, if they like me or not. But like this, you cannot see me either. Both of us cannot see, but you use your words well so that I understand. I hope I can make you understand too. I- I really needed a place to make me happy and usually I lie on my carpet, but somehow… somehow I lay down on your carpet because you make me happy too.”

"I'd gladly be your carpet replacement," he chuckled and wrapped his legs around Hyungwon's hips to have him closer, feel the warm skin and inhale the scent that he couldn't get enough of. "That being said, please don't think what you see in porn is what being close is like. It's not. Not at all."

“So, putting you in my mouth is bad?” Hyungwon asked immediately and slipped lower while nibbling on the skin of his chest and stomach. He sounded like he was being serious, making his way down while doubting whether it was effective.

"What? No! It's- it feels good. Your lips feel amazing and I love the feeling," he gasped, before realizing that Hyungwon hadn't been aware of it because he didn't know. He didn't know that him and his shadow were the same person.

“Oh? Did you dream about it?” Hyungwon asked and smiled against his skin, sounding excited as he covered more of his stomach and hip bones in small bites. “I like how it feels in my mouth. I’d like to try yours too.”

_Great._

"Then afterwards… I would like to taste you too, but differently. I'm wondering if you would like it." Leaning back fully, he sunk his fingers into Hyungwon's hair and pulled lightly when the teeth were too rough, but despite the pressure, all of it felt too good to be true.

A low hum sounded each time he tugged at the black strands and Hyungwon seemed to enjoy it, rubbing against his palm with his head when he stopped tugging for a moment. Lips and teeth played with his skin, leaving lines that Hyungwon licked over right after, as if he drew patterns on his hips and finally his thighs.

“I really like how your body feels,” he heard from between his legs before his underwear was tugged down just low enough to reveal his erection as a hot tongue leaned in and licked over it, tasting it a few times as if it was a treat. “I know now that one should start slow, so you’ll get the best feeling ever.”

His ability to form any thought was gone quickly, as soon as those lips closed around his tip. There were only hisses leaving his mouth, followed by low, quiet moans because he didn't dare to let go yet, still thinking about the fact that he was knowingly deceiving someone.

Hyungwon must have been following a pattern, playing with his tip without a break, slowly at first and with his tongue only, until his mouth closed around the head and sucked. It was just a moment during which his thighs quivered before the sensation was gone and replaced by a tongue again, digging into his slit slightly and fingers that stroked along his shaft and over the transition to his balls.

“I really like it,” the low voice murmured before he was taken into the hot mouth again and his thighs flexed. As soon as the sensation was gone again there were words. “Is this slow enough? Oh- you said you don’t talk during sex.”

He didn’t get the chance to reply as Hyungwon immediately resumed the sucking, using his head at the same time and turning it just a bit each time as he slipped down to about half of his length and back up, smacking his lips whenever he let go.

"Fuck. This feels amazing, don't stop," he hissed, rubbing his head against the hard floor and spreading his legs more, pulling at the silky locks to bury a bit more of himself between the plump lips.

The motions continued, and his orgasm approached quickly, washing over him as he thrust forward, and his lips parted in a moan of the name he shouldn't have spoken out loud.

_Hyungwon._

There were no sounds apart from his harsh breaths, echoing off the walls as Hyungwon cleaned him up with his lips, nibbling on his skin and licking over his thighs and groin to catch every drop that he spilled. Only after a final lick along his whole length up to the tip, Hyungwon crawled up along his body and stopped with one hand each resting next to his head. He couldn't decipher the facial expression on the small face, but he knew that those eyes were focused on him, observing the shadows.

“How... do you know?” the low voice asked slowly before lowering his body down on top of him, hips meeting and pulling a moan from the pretty mouth.

"Does it matter? Since I know, I can't prevent myself from saying your name in my head a thousand times because it sounds so good. Hyungwon. Hyungwon. Hyungwon." He smiled and leaned forward to kiss the swollen lips, tasting himself on them. "I want to make you feel really good. Do you- by chance know what rimming is?"

“Of course!” Hyungwon exclaimed and he could tell how the tall man sat up on his lap and crossed his arms. It seemed a little funny even though it was still too dark to see more. “It’s when you pleasure the erogenous zones in the butt. One must draw circles with the tongue and some people like the tongue inside and others don’t. Give me a moment.”

Suddenly, the long arms wiggled around the slim body, for several seconds until they fell on his chest and roamed over it instead.

“Okay, now I am fine. I was feeling very happy because you know my name, but still like me.”

"I like your name, I like you. I want to rim you and then I want you to tell me about those three important people in your life. Would that be okay?" he asked and laughed because he loved how happy the other man seemed because of things that seemed too small to make a difference for anybody else.

“Yeah!” Hyungwon exclaimed and nodded as well. “I might just- lose sense of everything, but if you hug me afterwards I should be okay again. Just don’t let the noises get too loud or hum in my ear. That’s nice. I do it myself sometimes. My grandma also did that when I was a small alien.”

It felt a little strange as Hyungwon kept talking but turned around to kneel on his hands and knees, behind turned towards him as if he had no shame whatsoever.

"I'm so blessed to have met you," he murmured and crawled after, finding the round hips with his hands and placing kisses on Hyungwon's lower back and enjoying the lack of light because the scent and touch gained intensity. "Tell me if it's uncomfortable, I'll stop right away, okay?"

_You can't hurt him. Ever._

Letting his hands travel over the firm thighs, he kissed Hyungwon's buttcheeks, wondering how they looked if there was a bit of light, but in the end, it didn't really matter because it had never mattered before he knew. Before he came to know that every single thing during the past weeks led to that one person that trusted him with his soul and his body, kneeling in front of him and believing that he wouldn't do anything harmful.

"Little alien," he whispered to himself. "I like that."

***

_Little alien._

He smiled, remembering the little boy that always carried around his sticker collection and loved building fortresses out of small stones. It was also the little boy that didn't laugh at his pink shorts even though they were his favourite ones. He hadn't been able to wear any other ones and only the little boy had understood, the boy whose face lit up as soon as he entered the garden where they played and yelled out to him. "Little alien!" he had always said.

His heart was beating furiously, pumping blood through his body and making sure that each part had enough oxygen, especially the part that throbbed and made him want to push his hips forward and thrust them against the hard floor. He was able to control it though, because self-control led to more pleasure eventually. It was another rule that he had learned and did his best to live by.

The burst of happiness that hearing his own name had resulted in was still there, buzzing around him like a bee and forcing him to bend each of his fingers in succession, counting to ten and starting all over again to calm his excitement and bridge the time that he waited for the man behind him to act.

_He knows your name and still he likes you._

It was difficult to believe because all those years there had only been a single person that liked him, only one human that saw him for what he was and still wanted to be next to him.

_Even promised to be next to you._

A tremble passed through him, a remnant of the beautiful man telling him that a promise made by a child didn't matter. It had to matter, how else was he supposed to live otherwise? There was a man who liked him, a man who touched him and whom he could still taste on his tongue, but how was he supposed to change the rules?

_You don't know how to change. You want this, but you cannot marry the man behind the wall instead._

Probably he was being naive again. The man whose hands were roaming over his behind and pulling gasps from his lips, hadn't even said that he wanted to be with him. There was only the admission that he liked him, but as soon as commitment came most humans changed their minds.

"Will you make all my thoughts stop again?" he whispered and spread his legs a little because that was what all the people in the videos he watched did. They all spread their thighs apart and sometimes they used their hands too, but he needed his hands to stay on all fours. His balance wasn't good enough.

"I will, but I will relocate you, if it's okay." The words were followed by strong arms that lifted him and put him on the bed on his stomach, fingers wrapping around his hips and lifting them in the air. "Better. I bet you look so gorgeous, but I'll just imagine it."

_Because it's too dark._

He hummed and used the fact that he lay on his chest to stroke over his own hips and buttcheeks, moving them apart like he had seen in the video. Usually there was a comment like 'fuck' or something similarly surprised, but the darkness probably made it harder.

"You could open the blinds just a little. Then you can see how pretty I look," he murmured eventually, a little sad that there was no response. "I saw the lines of light on your chest and couldn't think about anything else. I also want you to see lines of light and think about nothing else. It has to be fair."

"Whatever you want, handsome alien," the low voice murmured, the bed screeched, the blinds lifted, and he saw the lines of light on the naked, muscular body that walked towards him slowly. His fingers curled with excitement even though they were still holding his butt and he held his breath, wiggling his toes to get rid of the excess energy.

"You're so so beautiful, like a collection of brioche bread. I want to bite it so badly," he muttered before burying his face in the sheets. The gasp he expected had still not come and he wondered if one had to be human for it.

"You don't need to do this. I will do all the work and you can lean back and enjoy, what do you think?" The man behind him uncurled his fingers and stroked over his butt cheeks until he could feel an exhale so close and intense that he twitched. "You're so gorgeous, Hyungwon. I'm losing my mind looking at you," the low voice vibrated against his skin before he felt a kiss on his right butt cheek, then his left and then the tip of a warm tongue sliding down his crack.

A sentence had been prepared in his mind, telling his special person that he hadn't gasped, so it couldn't be true that he was gorgeous. He had put it together while that pleasant voice spoke, but as soon as the hot tongue touched him it fell apart into its parts, leaving no coherency. He moaned loudly and almost forgot that he was supposed to keep his hips in the air. He spread his legs a little too much and lost contact with the warm mouth, mumbling something incoherent as a complaint.

"You- no gasp-" he muttered but knew that it probably didn't make any sense. He couldn't make sense of it either as he tried to find the warm mouth with his hips again and his knees pulled together to reach the right height again. The lamps were about to turn off around him, he could already feel his senses focusing on his lower body alone.

"You want me to gasp? Like this?" The man behind him must've leaned in and let out a gasp against the wet trail that the tongue previously created, making the sensation even more intense. "But I think this is better. Let me show you." The words were followed by fingers that wrapped around his hips and the hot, wet tongue that circled his entrance, applying pressure.

"I-" he tried, but as soon as the word was out he didn't know what to say anymore. It felt too good to speak, so he simply whispered 'please' and buried his face in the sheets. He couldn't really feel them, not even against his fingers. Only the bursts of pleasure in his lower body were left along with the warm exhales against his skin.

There was more tongue, more intensity, making it hard to breathe as only moans left his mouth and he didn't know what happened with his body, whether he pushed back against the warm mouth or stayed in place, what he was even saying or if it had been words or meaningless syllables.

He could feel the pleasure moving towards the whiteness he yearned for, the few seconds of nothing that he considered bliss. But right when he felt like he could grasp it there was a pause, the sensation moved back, and he whimpered until he felt it again and his thoughts scrambled all over again.

The pressure increased and so did his pleasure, moving up his limbs and down his torso towards his lower body before exploding and making him lose all feeling of himself, his skin, his breaths or heartbeat, there was just an empty blissful nothing.

The first thing he could feel was the warmth that he was pulled against, hot skin against his, strong arms that held him in a tight grip so that he couldn't move and the quick sound of a heartbeat that wasn't his. Two short beats that followed each other endlessly and the scent of cherry that covered him and everything around him.

He inhaled sharply and despite expecting all the lights to turn on at once, they didn't. The lights switched on gradually, along with the beating heart and sweet cherry that filled his nostrils. He moved towards it, burying his nose in the delicious neck.

"My thoughts are still there," he whispered and smiled, feeling sated and at the same time not terrified. It was the first time.

"Is it a good or a bad thing? Would you like me to do it again, so that you stop thinking?" the low voice sounded next to his ear, but it wasn't painful, as if the person from behind the wall tried his best to speak quietly. "Or was it not your thing? You looked quite… intrigued."

_How could it be a bad thing?_

He couldn't imagine it, so he shook his head furiously until he realised that it wasn't a good enough reply. It was difficult to focus when there was still pleasant warmth travelling through his body even if his head didn't explode with sensations this time.

"It's- it's a good thing," he murmured and pressed a kiss to the muscular chest. "Usually everything is so loud that I'm not myself anymore. As if the sounds crawl inside me and force everything that has been there before out. You help me be myself. You're… special."

_A special person._

"I like holding you close like this when my body doesn't try to make me jump you. It's calm and I feel so much more when my skin touches yours and your breaths get loud in my ears. I love how the moonlight looks on your body too. You're breath-taking, my gorgeous alien."

He hummed, wondering what the sudden warmth in his chest meant. He was sated and the sensation that spread out towards his fingertips didn't stem from his groin this time. The other man's words must have been the trigger, but could words do that?

"The darkness makes everything more intense," he whispered and smiled, pressing another kiss to the firm chest. "You taught me that. Will you… hum so I can open my eyes or is that strange?"

"No, it's not strange. I hope I will do it right." There was a brief chuckle before he was pulled further into the warm embrace and a low voice quietly hummed next to his ear.

The sound was pleasant, and he simply listened at first, enjoying how it wrapped around him the longer it lasted. Only after the man holding him inhaled and started again he finally opened his eyes. The darkness was thick around them, but still he could make out the parts where thin lines of light covered their bodies, showing the curve of the other man's hip bone, his butt, his muscular thigh that wrapped around him. He could make out the outline of the slim waist as he drew the thin line of light with his fingers, in awe at how broad the other man's shoulders appeared in comparison to his waist and his hands. Leaning back a bit, he explored the firm chest, brushing over the hard nipples and watching how his fingers looked stroking over the smooth skin, drawing the other man's collarbones and travelling down his arm, muscles flexing under his touch.

"I've never been more thankful for my ability to see," he whispered and covered the spots that his fingers had just touched with his lips. "I don't feel overwhelmed at all, only needy for more touch, more sounds and more warmth."

"You can touch me as much as you like, and I will keep you close and warm. What kind of sounds do you feel needy for?" Those delicate hands slipped down his back, drew the curve of his butt and returned to his lower back as the other man was talking, face turned towards the wall and making it hard to look at. "I want you to see as much as you want, as much as you need without feeling disappointed."

_Like the poem. He wants to keep the magic._

"I like your heartbeat the most," he replied, still not daring to speak louder than a whisper. Knowing that the other man's face was so close made it difficult to resist. He only had to turn it slightly to see a few lines of light dance over it. There was no need for more, only a tilt in his direction. His fingers were faster than his thoughts, caressing the firm neck and dancing along the gorgeous profile. He traced the shape of the other man's eyebrows, the dip of his nose bridge and the shape of his lips. He tried to draw it on a white sheet of paper in his mind as he touched it, recreate the lines the way his eyes would have.

"I like you the most," the low voice commented, and he felt warm air and vibrations against his fingertips as the words left the plump lips. "I like you the most when you are yourself."

_He likes you the most when you are yourself._

Those words were like a dream come true, the one thing he had always hoped to achieve from another person, a human. All those years, he hoped to meet somebody who liked him the way he was, with all his peculiarities and his inability to be human. He had hoped to meet somebody before he was twenty-five and promised to somebody else, but only now, when it was already too late, a person just like that appeared in his life.

"Where were you all those years?" he murmured and buried his face in the other man's armpit, unwilling to accept that it was too late. "Why couldn't you find me earlier?"

The person hugging him accepted his behaviour without a single comment and only wrapped himself tighter around him, as if knowing that he needed the feeling right now. "I think you are the one who found me. You found me and now I can never make any of this undone because I'm in too deep and unwilling to change it." Letting out a sigh that hit the top of his head, the muscular body shifted briefly. "Could you tell me more about the three important people in your life? I really want to know."

_He wants to know more about you._

A smile spread his lips and he nodded, excited that there was a person who cared enough to ask.

"There's exactly three. Back then there were only two, but it changed after you started writing me letters. There are also criteria for being an important person. The first person is my grandma. She's also the first one who entered the list. She buys food and puts it in my fridge and she taught me almost everything I know. She knows I'm from the stars but keeps pretending that it's a joke between us. You met her, right?" He shifted and wriggled with his legs because thinking about his grandma was nice. He really liked her and now that he had to work a lot, he barely saw her. She was also busier than she had been back when he just started studying. Mostly because she was too young to be a grandma.

"Mhm, I did. She is amazing. I need to talk to her for longer next time. I was only wearing shorts, so I hurried back into my apartment to not flash her." Again, the other man chuckled warmly, probably thinking about the meeting. "I'm also thankful that she told me about your birthday, so I could sing for you. It seems so strange now to think that being behind the wall has been enough for me. Now I tense up, thinking that I will have to let go of you. I don't want to."

_But why?_

"Why would you have to let go of me?" It didn't make sense to him, so he wrapped his fingers around the other man's wrists and used the grip to hug himself tighter, making sure that their bodies stayed connected. "There, now you're holding me tighter and don't have to let go."

Suddenly, he remembered his grandma chuckling and commenting on something that he hadn't understood last time, something that seemed to make sense now.

_Because he's attractive._

"Oh! You said you were only wearing shorts. She said that my neighbour is one delicious piece of bread, but I didn't understand. Is your stomach the bread?"

"Oh my god. Thank her for the compliment, I guess. You can look at my stomach if you like. I'm not sure."

"It's like connected brioche bread," he murmured and moved a little out of the tight embrace to be able to nibble on part of the prominent six pack to prove a point. It tasted even better than bread because he didn't like round bread, but humans thought that was a weird thing to dislike, so he usually kept it a secret. "My second important person is also fit like you. He wasn't before, but now he is."

"Is he? Tell me more about him. I'm curious." The firm muscles relaxed for a second before flexing under his tongue as he must've licked over a sensitive bit of skin. He immediately repeated the lick, hoping for a gasp as he prepared his answer. He loved to talk about Hoseok.

"He's my saviour!" he exclaimed and smiled widely. "I was so sure that I'll be alone forever and never find somebody, but Hoseok changed that. Hoseok liked me even though nobody else did and promised to be with me if nobody else does. That means I won't be lonely and even though I'm an alien I can marry too. He was also the only one who didn't make fun of my shorts." The words rained from his lips so quickly, he was barely able to keep up himself.

_You talk about him so often because he is the reason you aren't afraid of the future._

"But do you want to be with him? I mean- it's nice that he was being nice to you, but that's what a human should do. A human shouldn't make fun of others and be kind. How could you tell that you want to be with that person your whole life?" The muscular body felt a bit tense in his arms, maybe because of the topic.

_Is he sad because you will marry somebody else?_

He chewed on his lips and wrapped his arms around the firm neck, holding on tightly as he stroked over soft hair. He didn't want the other man to be sad, but he was twenty-five already and there was no real solution.

"You say humans should be nice, but how come I have only met two that were? Hoseok was nice to me and you were in a span of twenty-five years." A sigh left his lips and he squeezed the muscular arms in the hope to reduce the tension. "I know that I want to be with that person, because they promised. They promised, and they also liked me the way I was, naive and unable to pretend."

"Why does it matter that you are twenty-five?" the low voice asked, but there was no other motion apart from the words leaving the parted lips as the warm body stayed rigid.

_Why is he so silent?_

"Because that's the deadline." He tilted his neck in an attempt to see more of the other man's face, even though he probably wouldn't have been able to read it. "It is the time I had to find somebody until Hoseok comes to me and keeps me from being alone. He saves me."

"The deadline? Did you set it?"

"Yes! Hoseok wrote it on a paper and signed it. Twenty-five is the age at which I knew I was going to marry unless I found somebody earlier." Suddenly, something sounded off about the deal and he waited until it was quiet enough inside his mind to express his thoughts well. "Do you think that Hoseok hoped I would find somebody else? But why would he promise if he hoped that he wouldn't have to be with me?"

"I don't think he hoped to prevent himself from being with you. I think he just thought you would find a person who loves you and that you wouldn't have to be scared until that time comes. He probably couldn't imagine what it meant to you. Not in the slightest." It was strange to not feel any motion, fingers travelling over his skin or anything else. The person in his arms remained still, holding onto him and not doing anything.

_He sounds like he really knows how Hoseok feels. Is that something that humans can do, even without seeing each other?_

"Maybe he thought I'll find a person, but I didn't. It's because I'm the way I am, and he probably couldn't even imagine what it means to be like that." He shifted, hoping that the muscular body was going to move, but nothing happened.

_Is it because you talk about another person? Humans don't like that._

"I don't think it's because you didn't find a person. I think he simply couldn't imagine what it means if somebody gives words so much weight, carrying them throughout the years on his back, waiting for this one thing that was long forgotten by the person who promised." Finally, there was a motion but instead of it leading to anything good, the warm body was replaced with a thick blanket.

_He's leaving, right after telling you promises are forgotten._

His mind stopped on the last sentence, hitting rewind and playing it repeatedly like a broken record.

_This one thing that was long forgotten by the person who promised._

This time, he wished that he couldn't grasp what the sentence meant, couldn't understand the consequences and the way listening to it made him feel. But he knew, he knew that it meant Hoseok had forgotten as quickly as he promised. It meant that he was the only one thinking about the promise, relying on it and waiting for it to be fulfilled while Hoseok was living his own life. Even almost getting married.

_Married to somebody else even though he promised that it will be you._

"I think I need to take a shower. My thoughts need to leave," the low voice murmured unexpectedly, walking away with thin lines of moonlight playing on his gorgeous body as he briefly stopped on the way to the bathroom. "I made the swan for you. It was before you turned twenty-five," the person whispered before disappearing in the darkness.

He stared after him, examining the black space where he had been even though there was nothing left to see anymore. Maybe being saved was like that too. It seemed to be right there, vibrant and bright like the moon until it walked around the corner and disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. The man behind the wall had come unexpectedly and become an important part of his life, but he had never promised him anything, so didn't that mean that he was able to leave just as suddenly? So many people had left already, people that held his hand for a brief second before realising he was different and letting go again.

_Only Hoseok didn't. Hoseok was the only one._

The little boy who promised was the only one, but the man behind the wall was also the only one. The only one who liked him without seeing his pretence even once. The muscular man that walked out of the room and left him alone was still the only one who liked him for who he was without even knowing the human that he could pretend to be.

_It's you he sees, not the human you try to be._

Suddenly a bright light blinked close to the bed, stealing his attention away from his thoughts. After a few seconds the bright light disappeared and was replaced by a steady blinking, a phone that received a message.

_Maybe it's important._

Nodding to himself, he crawled over to the edge of the bed and took the phone into both hands, clicking the button on the side to determine if the message was important. There was no name attached to the number, but the message was clear, even to somebody like him.

'But I still love you,' the message said, short and simple. The longer he stared at it, the more sense it made. Of course, somebody like the man behind the wall had many humans who cared about him and loved him. He had said that the person he loved told him to leave, but maybe they realised their mistake? It was so easy to make a mistake and regret it. He knew that better than anybody.

_He is loved and probably loves back, so why should him liking you matter?_

Maybe it shouldn't have, but it mattered. The person behind the wall mattered more than he could ever put into words. Those letters were a part of his world and completed it, the low voice was the sound he wished to hear the most and the scent of cherry was what he wanted to be surrounded by. He needed all these things, but still it was too late.

It was too late to forget about the promise and it was too late to be liked by another person. Maybe the reason was difficult to understand for a human, but it was so clear to him.

_He made the swan for you, but when he did you were still a nobody to him._

He had been a nobody to the man behind the wall, but the little boy had knowingly promised to be with him.

***

_What a shaking, confusing mess your life is._

The sound of water seemed to become endless, drop after drop hitting his skin and making him numb towards anything else. There was still some of the tingling in his lips and his lower body from the intense reaction he received, from the pleasure that Hyungwon was so vocal and straightforward about, losing his senses and willingly giving him the reign over the way he felt, over his body and everything he experienced.

_Should you take everything offered?_

_Even if it isn’t offered to you?_

_Even if it isn’t_

_Yours._

He shook his head before throwing it back and letting the warm drops hit his face. It wasn’t the same and his thoughts didn’t leave either. They stayed, circling around the man who lay on his bed and had separated him into his two existences. There was the shadow connected to a promise that was long forgotten, the shadow that he didn’t want to be and there was the person in the darkness who used words, who listened and understood, who cared and cared for real. He didn’t want to be a shadow, a shallow promise that he used because the man who believed it happened to be a person he fell in love with. He wanted to be the swan, the words, the poems. Hoseok wanted to be the person behind the wall who sang happy birthday and listened to every breath of the person in the apartment next door. Who knew how those steps sounded and that they got faster or slower, depending on what numbers the clock showed. Himself. He wanted to be loved for the way he is.

_But he didn’t say that he wants to be with you and he didn’t say that he loves the person who promised. He just exists in a world of rules and promises, independent of any emotional attachment._

_He lived thinking that Hoseok will save him, so he doesn’t have to be alone. He doesn’t think about being in love or what it means to be with another person, what it means to commit. Not at all._

Maybe it was just him feeling so incredibly intimate with the person next door. He caught himself thinking that it seemed as if they were made for each other. When their bodies connected, and there was no space left for anything but the warmth of their skin or when they kissed and felt the same thing but so differently. They were so perfect for each other that even after knowing that the person he loved was his childhood friend and had ruined his life because of a childish promise, the only thing he could do was to hate his shadow for interfering with the way he felt.

_You are the one._

_But the ‘you’ he wants_

_Is not You._

The poem on his mind made him turn off the shower, and listen to the lack of sound, the silence that he knew from the night. Drying himself with a white towel, he put on his bathrobe with the hood to hide his face and entered the room. Light from the streetlamp still passed through the blinds and drew fine lines on his body and the person on the bed. When he stepped closer, he could see that Hyungwon was asleep, eyes closed and hugging the blanket as if it was a person.

He wanted to keep him, to simply slip under the blanket and wrap his arms around the gorgeous body, but he remembered what happened when the other man had chosen to break his routine. It was what had led to a big misunderstanding and more confusion.

Wrapping his belt tightly around his waist, he slipped his hands under the blanket and took Hyungwon along with it, carrying him through his apartment, out along the hallway, before briefly stopping in front of Hyungwon’s that wasn’t closed for some reason. It was reckless, but what could he have said about somebody who fell asleep on his dirty doormat in the cold stairway?

The apartment was more spacious and lighter because the blinds were open and revealed the arrangement of furniture covered in the light of the streetlamp that he prevented from entering his own space. There was the fluffy carpet Hyungwon liked lying on after work and he smiled when he stepped over it, trying to feel the fabric with his feet. When his eyes fell on the bed, he couldn’t help but imagine how Hyungwon sat on it with his ear pressed against the wall to listen to him, to what he was doing, to what he said. Because he cared. Because Hyungwon cared about him too.

He carefully placed the person in his arms on his bed and replaced his blanket with Hyungwon’s special one before walking to the window and letting down the blinds and only leaving a slim line under it that illuminated the bed that he sat on, watching the person he loved doing something that he never could.

“It looks so easy when you do it.”

"What does?" the plump mouth murmured as a pair of big eyes opened and focused on him, gaze roaming over what must have been shapes and shadows that formed his face.

“Sleep. Watching you sleep is magical.” He chuckled and wrapped his fingers around the belt of his bathrobe, fidgeting with it as he tried to stay in the shadows.

"What does it feel like?" Hyungwon murmured and reached out to cover his nervous hands with his big palm, holding onto his fingers. "Being awake when nothing else is."

“I guess it might be similar to how you feel. It seems as if no-one else exists who is like me or who understands what it means to only hear silence and when other people can close their eyes and rest, your mind is full of thoughts and it’s so tight that you feel pressure on your temples that prevents you from closing your eyes even more. It’s lonely and it’s calm. It’s a curse, but I accepted it, so it doesn’t happen often that I lie in bed with my eyes open and am in pain for hours because I want to finally close my eyes and stop thinking, but I can’t. Does it make sense to you?” His fingers intertwined with the big hand and he used his thumb to stroke over the warm skin. One could feel that Hyungwon had been asleep because his body was so warm, almost burning.

"I think I do," Hyungwon murmured and suddenly smiled, street lamp showing him just enough of the lifted mouth corners. "Usually, it is difficult for me to understand, but I think I know the feeling of too many thoughts inside my head. Is it different thoughts for you? For me, it can happen that I don't fall asleep, but that my body freezes instead. I… I stop speaking and sometimes even breathing. I shake, and I cannot express myself. You have seen it before and I've never been able to explain it, not even to my grandma. It's as if my head turns off, but it's not the way I want it to. It repeats sentences that hurt, over and over again."

“I saw that you didn’t react. It must be scary to feel that way. My pain usually comes from too much awareness of everything. For you it must be the other way around. That things suddenly stop making any sense and you turn off. The only thing I’m wondering about is whether I’ve been the reason for you feeling that way.” He shifted and lifted his right hand, drawing the shape of Hyungwon’s full lips with the tip of his index finger. It felt unfair to be hiding behind his hood and observing the person who lay right in front of him without trying to hide.

Those full lips closed around the tip of his finger and sucked briefly before letting go with a soft smile.

"It's because I didn't understand before. I'm learning, but there are still so many things about humans that I don't understand. I thought you don't want me and then my head repeated that sentence, as if you saying 'no' echoed inside my mind and all other sounds get louder and louder until I feel like my head is exploding. It's nicer like this, when there is just the sensation of my blanket and your finger against my lips. I want to kiss." The last sentence came suddenly and there wasn't enough time for him to reply before hands grabbed his face and pulled him down to connect their lips. Hyungwon held the kiss for a few seconds before lying back down and smacking his lips together, producing a 'mwa' sound.

“I stepped on my letter on the way inside. It was very metaphoric. Also, your lips are addicting. You are. I thought about how you sat here and listened to what I was doing behind the wall. It made me feel warm.” When they were close, he didn’t need to hide because they created darkness reducing the space between them, so he propped up on his elbows and leaned in to catch Hyungwon’s thick, warm lips that felt so incredibly good that he feared he wouldn’t be able to stop.

"Listening to you," Hyungwon began, mumbling the words into the kiss and stopping because the touch must have distracted him enough to forget about what he wanted to say. Only when he leaned back a bit and let their lips brush instead of touch, the breathy voice resumed. "Listening to you makes me happy. It feels like you and the sounds you make are a part of my world and… and there is a sound in the eternity of silence."

“That’s why I said that your existence came to me during a time in my life when I felt most lonely and I can’t bring myself to let go. My suitcase is still open, but it’s next to the couch, so that I don’t trip over it when I can’t stop kissing you on the way to the bed.”

Hyungwon giggled, sound so pure that he couldn't help but kiss him once again, keeping him from answering for a few more seconds.

"When you decide to leave, I'll just crawl into your luggage. Then you'll have to take me along. I hope there will be a fluffy blanket where you are going then." Another giggle followed and Hyungwon wrapped his arms tightly around his neck, shaking his arms from side to side while holding onto him. "I feel so happy right now because you are where I feel the safest. You came here, and people only visit when they like you, so you must really like me even though somebody else likes you. It's complicated, but right now everything feels like a cloud, a happy one. The pink type that looks like fluffy sugar."

_Somebody else likes you?_

“You- you mean at work? That… that is indeed the most complicated my life has ever been, but I want to be here next to you now. But what about you? What if that selfish bas… that selfish guy says he’s going to just move in with you because you’re supposed to be together? Then you can’t just go into my suitcase and I will leave, and it won’t matter. Quietly, as if I have never been there in the first place. Someone else will come here and make noise that will be different from mine, but it won’t matter either because you’ll get used to it. You will be with that person who promised you whatever, but as long as it will make you happy, that won’t matter either, am I right?” He sighed and crawled into the soft bed, wrapping his arms around Hyungwon and pulling him flush against his chest that was exposed because the belt loosened on his waist. “Never mind, I’m the selfish one because I just don’t want to leave and make up excuses why I want to stay a minute longer.”

"No," Hyungwon exclaimed suddenly and he couldn't even tell what exactly the other man was rejecting. "No, no, no, no, no. No way."

A few more whispers of 'no' followed as long, naked legs wrapped around him in return and fingers grabbed as much of his hair as they could reach without tugging at it. "You can't leave. I need the sounds and you and the letters. You're a special person too. You're person number three and I can't be without you anymore. My alarm clock says it too, every number on it makes me think of something that you do at that time. It mustn't stop."

Harsh breaths, a tug on his hair and then a plump mouth clashed against his own, squeezing the air out of his chest and kissing him breathless. "There are so many people who like you and then there's me who isn't liked by anybody but you. The selfish one is me, because you are mine."

"You're wrong. The people who like me… they don't like me. They like the shadow that I am during the day without knowing anything about me. You're the only one who knows and still you don't want me to leave. And still you want to be saved without knowing what it means. That there will be someone else in your life, occupying it with the way they are. Your numbers will mean something else and instead of letters there will be words, smiles, tears. It will all be replaced, and I know because I've seen it. That's why I have my suitcase. I can be replaced, but I have my life in a small space and can carry it wherever I want to. Away from my shadow. But you know, it always runs faster than I do. And now it does too." Suddenly, he felt like crying because again, he was fighting against himself. He thought that it was over, that he has found a person who likes him the way he is, the constant overthinking him, the him that overflowed with awareness, the him who couldn't sleep and wrote the fragments of his thoughts to a person on the other side of the wall. A person who cares about the real him, but who wants his shadow.

A low chuckle that left Hyungwon's lips caught him off guard and the tall man threw himself to the side, on top of his pillow and closed his eyes. His lips were spread in a smile as he lay naked on his bed and only kept his fingers buried in his hair, tugging just enough to keep him close.

"That is the one thing that humans don't seem to understand," Hyungwon murmured and used his right hand to reach for his fingers and kiss every single joint. "Humans let go of people all the time. Their friendships end, their affection towards other humans disappears and love breaks apart. But I cannot do that. I cannot like somebody I don't know at all and I cannot stop liking somebody that is special to me. I just wake up in the morning and know that there are people I cannot live without. You are one of those people and if you leave then I fall apart."

Hyungwon pulled him closer, almost removing his hood as he left only a few centimetres between their noses and pulled at his hair. "I mean it."

"I wish I could say that I'm able to leave, but it would be a lie. The thing is, humans can get used to many things. Change exists, so that one doesn't break apart when a person leaves, or dies, or hurts you. One learns to embrace the pain and moves on at some point. Some do it easier, some have a hard time, but time flies and they change too. That's why I said… a promise made a long time ago… how can you expect it to not be broken if the person who made it doesn't exist anymore? And if the person doesn't exist, what happens with the promise then? It must be scary to you if you say that you can't handle change. You say you mean it… You mean that you would fall apart when I leave, but- I've heard the same sentence so many times, so the words lost their meaning somewhere on the way." He cupped the small face and leaned forward, placing a kiss on those lips. "I know it all, I do, but I want to ignore it because I want to be with you."

Hyungwon stared at him, eyes wide and not focused on his face as so many times before. Their lips touched, and his kiss was returned, but it wasn't as mutual as before. The full lips were parted but it took several long moments until the other man finally spoke.

"But I exist," he heard, no louder than a whisper. "I still exist, and I existed for the past fifteen years, so how can a promise stop existing? I never forgot the little boy who liked me since I met him, so how could I forget you?"

"Of course, you exist. But your perception changes when you're with another person. Don't worry. I won't leave you. Only if you're not alone anymore. If you have someone." He pulled the slim body flush against his and placed a kiss on top of Hyungwon's head while stroking over his hair repeatedly. "I'll hold you until you fall asleep and then go back and write some poems that my mind came up with when I was next to you."

"Will you write them to me?" Hyungwon murmured as a reply and he couldn't believe how laced with sleep the low voice already sounded, as if speaking of sleep alone was enough to let the beautiful man experience it.

"Mhm. You'll see in my response," he whispered, enjoying how the other man's muscles relaxed under his fingertips, how his breaths seemed more and more regular and how slowly his heart was beating against his chest. Two sounds following each other in an endless loop until it was time to leave.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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CHAPTER 12

_“I'm sad."_

_"Why?"_

_"It's unfair. You live where I'm from, but I can never see the star that is your home."_

_

Familiar beeping noises echoed around him and even though it was early, he merely smiled with his eyes closed as he turned it off. The reason for his smile was a simple one.

_Routine._

His alarm clock showed eight and two zeros, his bed looked the way he remembered it and even the air in his apartment didn't harbour any scent that wasn't supposed to be there. His own skin still had a hint of cherry, but he didn't mind that at all because it reminded him of the two men he liked the most in his life.

_Cherry, cherry, cherry._

He remembered the day before like a fever dream, something that happened while his mind was on overdrive and that it hasn't been able to recover from ever since. He was never able to concentrate after breaking routine, after walking a path that he hadn't decided on previously. Losing himself, meeting Hoseok and having to confront Hoseok's relationship to their promise had been too much for his mind to take.

_The person who promised is gone, leaving somebody you don't know. That's what he said._

The thoughts inside his head were blurry and unfocused whenever he thought back to those moments. Only when his thoughts reached the comfort that the man behind the wall was able to provide him with, he felt clarity settle in his mind.

_He held you until you feel asleep. Like somebody who really likes you._

His bed felt warm, but he knew that it was his own body heat. The other man must have left a long time ago, unable to fall asleep and he felt upset that he hadn't been able to enjoy his presence for a little longer. If he hadn't fallen asleep, he might have been able to remember the additional scent that made the man behind the wall into who he was. A human that liked an alien.

_He said he will write you the poems._

Feeling excited, he jumped out of bed and hurried all the way to the hallway, right before stopping midway and remembering his own rules. He couldn't lose himself again the way he had the day before. Resisting the low voice as it invited him over was difficult, but this time it was about a letter. The letter he sometimes read after work because it provided him with happiness after pretence stole his mind away.

_You must finish your routine. There will be more of you left for the letter._

Holding his breath, he stared at his palms, imagining how they were going to unwrap the white letter. He thought of the scent of cherry that he would be able to smell if he leaned close enough. All of it excited him, but the awareness to realize these things needed calm.

_So, you are going to turn around and resume where you left off._

He nodded to himself and counted his steps towards the wardrobe, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. He didn't like the number, so he stepped back and did another two to have ten. That was a much better number and maybe he could walk another ten once he was done getting ready.

There were no sounds on the other side of the wall, no matter how intently he listened. Maybe the man who brought him happiness and pulled him from his misery was asleep, enjoying the moment of peace that he yearned for but never reached.

_There would be nothing left of you without sleep._

Sleeping was his remedy against everything. The world seemed peaceful and comprehensible when he had slept, even if it still required him to pretend.

_It gives you the strength to seem human._

His body was quick to move through the necessary steps, brushing his teeth, getting dressed, eating the same thing for breakfast that he ate every day. Four tomatoes.

Once he stood in the hallway with his alarm clock glancing at him from the commode in the hallway, he smiled brightly. It felt good, like a smile that genuinely belonged to him. Now that everything was the way it had to be, yesterday definitely resembled a bad dream. Something that hadn't happened.

_Everything is okay._

The smile was still on his face when he glanced at his favourite carpet but didn't find a letter. It was also still present when he knelt and tapped his hands all over the carpet, wondering if he simply couldn't see it. His mouth corners lowered a little when he glanced under the commode and searched where his shoes usually stood.

_Everything is-_

Only when he opened the front door and glanced at the empty floor before it, his smile finally faded away, leaving the static facial expression that he wore to work.

_It's not there._

Inhaling sharply, he shook his head and tried to return the smile to his face. But it was only a layer of pretence that he put on, the same layer he was going to display as soon as he reached work.

_Maybe he took it back._

The thought was terrifying at first, as if the man behind the wall didn't want him to know his thoughts and feelings anymore. But then he found a different explanation, one that he held onto with everything he had.

_He will add the poems. Once he added the poems, it will be returned to you._

He only had to wait.

_

The thin paper wings could be lifted off the equally thin paper body easily, as if they could take flight as soon as he squinted a little. The delicate white paper swan that lived on the blue sheet with a poem was a source of comfort to him. A genuine smile appeared whenever he glanced at it and it made him feel a little more like himself. More like the person he was behind the thick layer of human that he tried to apply.

His professor had realised he had been less productive the day before and he had spent the whole morning trying to catch up with what he should have finished by now. It was unlike him and maybe that was why the professor had forgiven him quickly, squeezing his shoulder painfully and ignoring the fact that he disliked being touched.

_But you have the swan._

Again, he smiled, wondering if the folded bit on the head of the swan was also a smile. It distracted him from his difficulties to make sense of his current situation. He was supposed to find somebody who liked him or be with Hoseok as soon as he turned twenty-five, but now Hoseok spoke of change and there was a man who liked him even though he was twenty-five already.

_A man who doesn't believe in promises._

Holding his breath, he hugged the little swan to his chest and willed the bad thoughts away. Everything seemed okay somehow if he just held the little swan and continued to work the way he always did. Loneliness only had to be solved once he felt it, right?

He must've been in thought and hadn't realized that someone had entered his office, covering the walls and desk in more light than he considered comfortable.

"I brought food," a low voice said, and it sounded so familiar that he almost let out a sound, because the person who made the swan and the voice connected to an entity that made him the happiest. The entity he missed the most.

Happiness bubbled in his chest and he almost jumped up from his chair and ran towards the voice, imagining how he was going to hug the person who helped him fall asleep and who helped him to return his strength and be okay. The swan was still close to his chest as he tensed his thighs and was about to stand up, only to recognise somebody else. Not the man who calmed him while holding him, but the man who had promised and broken it.

_Hoseok._

He remembered the words that Hoseok had said to him the day before. They still confused him, but he wasn't naive enough to forget the consequences they had. It meant he was going to be alone, alone because Hoseok had changed as a person and wasn't going to be the little boy anymore.

_But he promised. It's what you are supposed to do._

For a moment he had hoped to change the mind of the man in front of him, to make him want to keep the promise after all. Maybe… if he pretended just enough it could work? He could pretend to be human and be just like everybody else, like somebody who was liked by another human.

"Hi," he replied and smiled before putting the swan back on the table. He did it reluctantly, but adult humans didn't hug paper swans. "That's super sweet. I didn't have lunch yet. What did you get?"

"I thought so. I got sushi because I have no creativity and felt like it might be safe to stay with what I know you like. How- are you?" The broad body moved closer, placing the paper bag on his desk and glancing at the swan with the poem. "Isn't it lonely? Do you think it needs a friend?" Hoseok's delicate fingers reached for the wings and stroked over the edges carefully.

"A… friend?" he asked, feeling caught off guard by the question. "Aren't I his friend?"

The question was probably childish for human standards, so he chuckled before taking the bag with sushi and arranging it on his office desk. It was time for the other employees to take a break anyway, so it was probably fine to have somebody over and to eat.

"But of course, I'm no swan, right?" he murmured eventually before pouring four drops of soy sauce on each piece of sushi.

_A swan and an alien. A human and an alien._

"Well, you might be a friend. One that only pulls it out when they have time. I thought it would feel lonely in your desk all by itself. I can make it a second swan. A black one." Hoseok smiled and leaned his hips against his desk, unpacking the chopsticks and giving him one pair. "But to be honest, it must feel lucky to have you, even if it's for a few moments that you share."

_Huh?_

It wasn't particularly surprising that he was confused by something that a human said, not really. But this time it seemed to be because of him and not really because of the human. Only the day before Hoseok had said that he was a different person, a person that hasn't promised him anything. So why… was he suddenly so nice? Why did he sound like it was something wonderful to spend time with him?

_And he also knows how to make a swan._

"You… you know how to make a swan?" he whispered, because he didn't know what to say to the last sentence. Only belatedly he remembered that he had to seem human, so he smiled quickly. "That's pretty cool. I don't know how to do that at all, so it would be nice. Then the swan won't need somebody unreliable like me. I'm no swan." He laughed briefly because humans made everything seem funny, even if it was the truth and sad.

Hoseok observed him, trying to look him in the eyes just as he always did. Those black eyes that seemed a bit scary because he could never tell what the other person was thinking and feeling. Meeting somebody's gaze only made his inability more apparent. "Will you stop taking it out if it has another swan? Then I won't make one," Hoseok said without a smile. "Please eat, I bought extra thick salmon pieces because I saw that you liked them last time."

"Yeah, those are my favourite ones," he murmured and stuffed one into his mouth. It was delicious, so he hummed in approval. It distracted him from the difficult question. He didn't want to lie to seem human, so he answered truthfully. "I don't think I could stop taking it out even if I wanted to. But what if the black swan would be sad then? Shouldn't I take out both? If I only take out one, the other remains sad and lonely. They won't need me anymore."

_Don't think that._

He inhaled sharply because the thought made him sad and quickly stuffed another piece of salmon sushi into his mouth. What if he couldn’t like both swans equally? What if he liked the white one even though the black one was made by the man who promised to be with him?

"Do you know the story of the ugly duckling? I think it's similar here. The swan is for you to remind you that you are gorgeous, an elegant and beautiful existence, and not the ugly duckling that you think you are. And the black one would be me. Maybe it's a shadow or maybe it's a white swan, just that it's night and nobody can see. Who knows?"

_A shadow?_

He didn't comment because the words were too familiar, reminding him of the letters he wrote and received in return. Maybe he liked humans that could control words whereas he barely understood them.

Hoseok hummed and took an avocado Maki, placing it into his mouth and chewing in a way that made his mouth corners lift. It made the muscular man seem very cute suddenly. He resembled the little boy that he could still remember so well.

He couldn't help a smile and reached out to brush over the round cheek, chuckling briefly before lifting another Maki to the curved mouth.

"I always loved to watch you eat," he pointed out and pursed his lips because he always had while watching. The little boy had said he resembled a duck when he did that. _An ugly duckling_. "Even if I forgot to eat myself."

A low chuckle sounded and Hoseok stuffed a big salmon nigiri between his lips, preventing him from talking. "That's why I'm here to make sure that you do. And to inform you that I'll move into your apartment tomorrow in case that you still think that I'm supposed to save you from loneliness."

_What?_

His eyes widened, and he stared at the curved mouth, wondering if he misunderstood something. Did he lipread badly? His word predictions were bad, so he ended up thinking people said something that they didn't. Humans didn't have that problem because they could predict what people were most likely going to say.

There was no reason for Hoseok to suddenly change his mind, was there? Only yesterday he had said that he couldn't act on the promise. He had been so devastated because there was no way out and now there was a way after all?

_It must be the pretence. You pretended well and now he likes you again._

A hint of sadness returned to his chest, but he forced himself to forget about it. This was what he wanted, right? He wanted Hoseok to keep his promise and now everything was going to be the way it had to be.

_He'll save you from loneliness._

"Of course, I still think that you're my saviour," he replied and wrapped his arms around Hoseok's neck to be closer. "But I thought hu- people move in with each other after getting married. Or they have a lot of sex, live together and then get married. Depends on the movie."

"I would say it's the second movie. I'm getting shivers just thinking about marriage currently. Moreover, I do think that you don't really know what it means to be with another person, so I want to show you. That's why I'm going to be with you for two weeks and then you will tell me how you feel about the whole thing. Deal?"

The intense gaze was directed at the lamp that he turned on and it seemed as if Hoseok was talking to it and not to him.

_Is he feeling uncomfortable?_

He couldn't really tell, so he went through everything that might have made the other man uncomfortable. He closed the window in case it was too cold, turned the lamp off in case it was too bright, let go of the firm neck if it was too close, but also pulled his chair right next to Hoseok in case he was too far.

"But what happens after two weeks?" he asked eventually, because he wasn't sure that he understood. Hoseok wanted to live with him and fulfil the promise, but why two weeks?

_Is he… going to leave again?_

"After two weeks, you will tell me truthfully if this- and if I am the one that you want. I know that you can't imagine it, but I don't want to make you feel guilty or whatever, so let's make it two weeks. Like a time where you can return a product that you bought and don't like at the shop."

_A product?_

"But you're a human," he murmured, confused why Hoseok would talk of himself as an object. "You're not a product. You're my saviour and the person that makes me feel less lonely. You made me very sad yesterday, but now it is okay again. Is there also something I can do so you're not sad anymore? You said I make you miserable."

_You don't sound like a human._

Again, he smiled quickly and climbed on top of Hoseok's lap to press a kiss to his cheek. "I could make you feel good if you like."

"No. It's not the kind of sadness that disappears only because you get distracted by arousal. But I do need to talk to you about something before it all fades into nothingness and I won't be able to remember, or be mad at you, because the more time passes, the harder it is. I feel it." Hoseok sighed and looked up, roaming over his features slowly. "I wanted to talk to you about you coming to my wedding and blowing it off." Hoseok put his chopsticks on the desk next to his hips and wrapped his fingers around the edge before letting them travel along his thighs, wrapping around his waist carefully. "Do you understand why it has been a terrible thing to do?"

_Coming to the wedding was terrible?_

He shook his head slowly, hoping that not knowing didn't make him seem even less human. After all, Hoseok only returned and changed his mind because he had been pretending so well.

"Let's say… you are doing the same things every morning before you go to work. You know that your mornings will look this way and you expect it to be this way every day. And then, suddenly, a person you don't know and don't expect comes in, destroys all the things your routine consisted of, things that you expected would happen in the future, just everything. That's how I felt when you did that." Hoseok looked at him, but he couldn't hold the gaze for more than a split second and preferred to observe the black eyelashes on the right eyelid. "I can't blame you for the way she reacted to it, or how others did, but I can hold you accountable for coming and for getting involved in a way that led to a complete destruction of my life."

"I- I did that?" he whispered and couldn't help the painful pulling in his chest, as if he was slowly sinking into sand and had nothing to hold onto. Nothing but Hoseok whom he had hurt even more than the other man had hurt him.

_He said you destroyed his life. You took his routine and destroyed it all._

A sob shook his whole body and he tried to silence it with his right palm. He must have done something so terrible, ripping a fluffy blanket from Hoseok's hands while telling him that he didn't want to see him anymore. He must have chopped Hoseok's alarm clock, taken away his grandma and left him at an apartment he didn't know all by himself.

"I'm so terrible," he whispered and couldn't help the loud sobs that escaped him, soaking his sweatshirt in tears. "I'm so so terrible."

"You're not the only one at fault. She could've said that she trusts me and that a person coming out of nowhere doesn't matter, but she didn't. She made the decision in the end. A decision to abandon me and what we had, but you kicked the stone that started rolling. You could've talked to me, not speaking out in front of all the guests. You could have tried to explain it to me, but you never did. I can't promise that I would've understood, I can't promise anything, but it would've been better. Maybe then… I don't know. Maybe I wouldn't have to feel like my life is over and there is no way for me to live on. It wasn't right. What you did wasn't right, Hyungwon. You aren't terrible as a person, but what you did was." Hoseok's eyes were shiny and the handsome face looked in pain. Maybe it was easier to recognize because he was in pain too.

_He's in pain because of you. No, because of something you did. But the one doing it was you._

"I did something terrible," he murmured again, repeating it a few times in the hope that it would stop being true. "I- I just saw the announcement and there was your name and it was that day, so I had to hurry. Because you promised, you promised, and I was so scared that something was going to change. I went there and only spoke the truth, but then all those people started screaming and cursing at me, so I hid under a bench until the celebration was over. I didn't- I didn't know that you really wanted this. I thought it must be some mistake. I'm- I'm so sorry." His body was trembling, and he wrapped himself tighter around Hoseok, hoping to make it better for both of them.

"Mhm. Isn't change beautiful? I wanted to marry that person and be with her and publish my book and live this way, throwing away my suitcase. Then I met someone else, someone I fell in love with, who I thought liked me for who I am and now I'm here. With you. With the person who started it. I wouldn't be able to live if I couldn't change like that. If my feelings couldn't change. I just hope they will. I really want them to change so I can feel better, but right now it feels like they never will. That's very human too. I guess I really am one." Hoseok held him close, hands stroking over his lower back as he spoke, and it seemed as if the other man was comforting him even though it should have been the other way around.

_Change is terrifying._

"I don't think my feelings ever change," he whispered, wondering if that was the one thing that would keep him from ever becoming human. He couldn't imagine waking up one day and not feeling the way he did right now, the way he wanted to hug the swan, keep the man behind the wall close and at the same time act according to his promise. There were three people that mattered to him and until now he had never stopped caring about any of them. "I like, but I don't know how to stop liking."

"I don't think it's true. Everything that can appear, can disappear too. It must be harder for you, but there's no way it can't," Hoseok commented. "If it was the same for me, I would just hate and blame you the way I did on my wedding day. But I don't. I just want you to know why it was wrong."

"I won't do it anymore," he whispered even though he knew that it was already too late. The damage was done. He understood now why coming to the wedding was wrong, but he still didn't understand why Hoseok came to him. Was it really the pretence? If yes, was it good enough to choose him over a person that Hoseok was in love with? "But… why did you not stay with the person you fell in love with after the wedding?"

"Because-" Suddenly the low voice broke and Hoseok swallowed, not saying a single word for a few seconds, as if the time stood still. "Because he chose somebody else. Someone who he considered better, someone who is enough."

_It must have been the man he wanted to touch but didn't dare to. The one you tried to replace._

"But how could you not be enough?" He didn't understand it at all. Hoseok was a wonderful human, somebody who was nice and caring and brought food. He was also beautiful and muscular and if Hyungwon hadn't seen him at the wedding, he would have been overwhelmed by having somebody like the man in front of him promise to be with him. "You're more than enough. I'll take care of you."

Smiling, he wrapped his arms around Hoseok again and offered him a Maki. "I'll do my best to be just the way you want me."

_You'll pretend so well that he won't want to leave._

"You are perfect the way you are, little alien. Do you still have those pink shorts?" Hoseok smiled for a split second after chewing on the piece of food.

He smiled, because this time it really seemed like Hoseok remembered. It seemed like Hoseok remembered and felt just as happy about the past as he did.

"I do," he murmured and rubbed his face against the warm neck. It smelled so strongly like cherry that it confused him for a moment, blurring who it was that he embraced at that moment.

_Are you allowed to feel this way? Aren't humans supposed to be sure?_

"You're more than enough," he replied and kissed the curved mouth, once again finding himself thinking back to the night before, the warmth surrounding him as he fell asleep. He was holding the man who promised him to save him from his loneliness, he got what he wanted, and he said what he knew he was supposed to say.

But for the first time, he wasn't sure whether the answer he gave had been the truth.

***

He threw his memories and the remains of himself into the old suitcase. Not everything, because he didn’t think that he would stay, but enough to feel like he was leaving.

_A few steps_

_Can feel so far_

_If it’s yourself_

_You’re leaving behind._

His eyes still glanced towards the space under his door and he had opened the blinds, squinting from the flood of light that pierced his retina as he searched for a white piece of paper that he might have missed in the darkness, but there was only emptiness and the apartment that he had spent more time in that he expected. The apartment with his old closed suitcase that looked sadder than anything else.

He knew what it meant and the desperate visit at the university building only confirmed what he had concluded from the lack of words. The lack of voice and the lack of warmth of those hands that slipped under his door, trying to feel more of him and be close no matter how and no matter for how long.

Those heroic thoughts. He had them too. Thinking that he would never abandon himself, never agree to less than he wanted and needed, never step forward knowing that it was a step back. He wanted to be like that. Smile at abandonment, shrug at the pain, knowing that the person he was wasn’t enough for the one he loved, that he was enough for himself and remain alone because it was better than the exhausting attempt to live as someone that he wasn’t.

_I’ll leave_

_I'll close my suitcase_

_And exhale_

_Evaporating into nothing._

_Why should I stay_

_If you don’t want me_

_Right?_

_But truth is_

_I’d be the mat you lie on_

_Step on_

_Just to hear you breathing_

_Next to me._

He lifted his suitcase to not make more noise than necessary and used his skill, moving like a ghost through the front door, shoes not making a single sound. An eternity of silence with nothing else but the painful trace of leaving something that meant the world to him in the desk next to the window.

The old suitcase stood next to the door of the apartment he would live in for the next two weeks, the place that he couldn’t be himself in because the person he loved chose it. Hyungwon chose the shadow and he was ready to be anything, just to be close to the person he loved, so he took the chance and turned into the shadow, but before that…

Before that, there was pouring rain that hammered against the roof of the building that he couldn’t ignore like a calling, like a last opportunity to be himself, so he left his shoes next to the suitcase and went barefoot down the stairs, stroking over the railing and feeling disappointed because there was no stains of black marker on his palm when he lifted it to his face.

Things were changing, and it felt like a loss so painful that he shivered when the cold water hit his naked forearms, soaked his grey shirt and he closed his eyes, feeling the pressure against the thin skin of his eyelids as he stayed in front of the familiar entrance and got soaked by pouring rain that didn’t make anything better or easier. It only made him feel cold.

His steps left wet trails on the staircase as he watched his pale feet walk towards the place he wanted to be but didn’t want to be. Not like that. Not as Hoseok, the saviour, the one who promised.

_You're none of it, but he thinks that you are._

It was so freezing cold, and he felt even worse than before as he slipped into his shoes and stood in front of the familiar door, staring at the scratches on it, at the space beneath it where he sat, where he held the warm fingers, heard the low voice that spoke to him. To the real him.

_You made the decision and it’s what he wants._

Three times. That’s how many times he knocked before his hand lost all tension and fell to his side and he continued staring.

He heard steps, the same familiar sound he had listened to before a white sheet of paper appeared under his door. This time they didn’t go as far, stopping right in front of him. Only a door was in between before even that obstacle was removed, and his eyes fell on Hyungwon’s round face. His brown eyes were widened, as if he hadn’t really expected him and the plump mouth spread into a smile that somehow didn’t quite match the eyes. As if the eyes and lips were feeling different emotions, unable to decide which one to show.

“Hoseok!” Hyungwon exclaimed and opened the door a little wider, while still holding onto it tightly. “You really came.”

"You think I'm unreliable only because I didn't remember a promise from fifteen years ago?" he asked and clenched his fingers around the handle of his suitcase, hoping for it to give him some strength to not break down and reveal that he was the man behind the wall and to forgive him. To please just be with him regardless of anything, but he knew enough to understand that the person in front of him wouldn't be able to handle it because he had chosen. Hyungwon had chosen the shadow.

_He said his feelings can't change._

"You can throw me out earlier than two weeks by the way. You don't need to suffer for longer than necessary." He stepped inside and slipped out of his shoes. The first thought was how soft the carpet felt against his feet and he moved his toes to feel more.

“I’m not going to suffer!” Hyungwon exclaimed and shook his head, but the smile on his face still felt off. The tall man quickly ran somewhere deep within the apartment and brought what looked like a blue towel and a pair of blue shorts. “I prepared everything matched to how I wear it because I wasn’t sure what you needed. I also didn’t know if it was really happening because my grandma said that people who don’t like you don’t suddenly move into your apartment. But I told her that I know you and that you are the one who promised to marry me, but she just threatened to visit. So, if she does, just be yourself.” Hyungwon was babbling a lot and the way he kept staring at the towel in his hands made it even more obvious that he seemed just a tiny bit out of it.

_She can't visit. She'll immediately recognise you._

"I hope she won't have to visit. Just tell her that it's temporary and that I'm going to pay part of your rent, then she won't worry as much, but I do understand her. It doesn't really make sense."

_Nothing makes sense._

He left his suitcase next to the shoe rack and stepped closer to take the shorts and towel from Hyungwon's hands. "Is it strange to have me here? It is, right? I will leave you alone for a bit to get used to it. The rain soaked me by accident, so I wanted to ask if I could take a shower."

“You want to take a shower?” Hyungwon’s eyes widened again and he stared at the blue towel for a bit before running away again. A few seconds passed, and he heard rumbling until the other man returned with a bottle of shampoo and shower gel that he must have taken from the shower, bringing it for some reason. “You need this, right? You can use it, but it’s important to use three drops. Actually-”

Again, there was silence and Hyungwon’s eyes widened even more. “Actually, never mind. You can use as much as you like, and I don’t know why I just said that. Probably super weird, ha-ha.”

_He's not okay at all, but why?_

He observed Hyungwon's antics, gaze travelling from his long fingers holding the bottles to his tense posture, to the mimic that didn't fit his words at all. Stepping forward, he carefully reached for the slim wrist, testing out if it was okay from the intensity and let his fingers travel further, over the golden skin up to his arm, neck and finally his gorgeous face.

"You really don't need to try too hard. I'm here because I'm the desperate one. I have my cherry stuff. You mentioned that you liked the scent, right?"

“Cherry stuff?” Hyungwon asked quietly, repeating it a few times until he must have understood, long fingers reaching up to stroke over his own. “The scent? I- I need that.” The big eyes settled on his face, dropping to his jaw and neck. “Ehm, now.”

"Now? What do you mean?" he asked, trying to read what was happening in the mind of the person he came to be with. It was so easy with others, but he simply couldn't find a way to know for sure with Hyungwon.

“I kind of need to smell the cherry,” the man in front of him elaborated while squeezing his fingers in a regular rhythm, moving through each finger before starting over. “Now.”

"I'm not sure if the scent is intense right now, but…" Hoseok spread his arms and smiled. "But you can come here, if it's enough for you."

No more words followed as Hyungwon immediately wrapped his arms around his waist and buried his small face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply as if he genuinely needed the scent, right this instant as he had described it.

Silence spread around them, dancing through the air in between their breaths as the man in his arms kept inhaling and exhaling against his skin, tickling it.

He caught himself melting into the embrace with his eyes closed, in the darkness.

_Your embrace is magic._

_With our eyes closed_

_We pretend_

_That you are you_

_And I am me._

“Better,” the low voice murmured, but the lean arms still didn’t let go.

"Is it? Does the scent have a calming effect?" he asked quietly, enjoying the silence and the closeness they shared. Thankful that there were no more signs of Hyungwon's discomfort about him being at his place, no fake smiles and strange excuses, as if the person in his arms needed any. He was the only one who should've been making excuses, but he stayed, shamelessly taking every single thing that he was offered even though there were no honest words between them anymore.

Hyungwon never wrote back.

A low hum was his reply as he felt the round nose brush over his neck, back and forth. It was calming to him too, even though he shouldn’t have been enjoying their closeness so shamelessly.

As if to break the moment, the door bell sounded and the man in his arms jerked in his embrace before jumping back and staring at the source of the sound without moving towards it. “Fuck,” Hyungwon hissed and ruffled up his black hair.

"What happened?" he whispered, coming closer and making sure that whoever came didn't hear. "Who's that?"

“My grandma,” Hyungwon whispered back and wiggled with his arms. „You have to hide, or she’ll ask you too many questions. There is a lot of space under my bed and I vacuumed there too.”

"O-okay. On my way," he commented and went straight to the bed, climbing under it before he realized that it must've seemed weird that he knew exactly where he had to go. Keeping still, he watched Hyungwon's feet from his spot and how the door opened.

Instead of the usual hug as a greeting, Hyungwon’s grandma must have been less touchy as she simply greeted him and walked into the apartment, carrying what looked like full bags of groceries.

“I hope it was a joke and you wouldn't just let some random person move into your apartment. You're handsome and a little bit naive and people love to take advantage of individuals like that. I got you your favourite muesli for the evening, are you happy? I also thought I might be lucky and meet your neighbour again. Such a well-mannered and handsome young man. Do you still get along well?"

_Thank fuck you're hiding._

“I… hope so,” Hyungwon replied softly, simply walking after his grandma and probably watching her sort food into his fridge. “I don’t really know. You know that I can never tell. I like him though. He’s person number three now.”

_Three. But it comes after the two and your shadow is number two._

"That's nice, Hyungwon. You're lovable and I'm always happy if people find that out and give you the affection that you deserve. He seemed to be very invested when I told him that it was your birthday, so he must like you a lot." The woman was quick, opening the shelves and placing the groceries on their respective spot. "I just thought about him again because I think that it's better to focus on the here and now, you know? People from the past might be unreliable, but with someone who likes you now, the chances are higher to actually build a relationship based on mutual interest and liking."

Hyungwon only hummed and he could see the long legs lift as the other man must have climbed on top of a counter while listening. “But people from the here and now can lie. And people from the here and now could feel one way but then change how they feel. And promises are meaningless. Meaningless, meaningless. He said so.”

"Mhm. He's right. But the same goes for every single person. It must be scary to you, but there's no safety that you will be showered with affection in a week or month or year. Everything can change. Just that my love for you never will because it's so deep that I'd need to stop existing for it to fade. I wish that you will find somebody who loves you that way soon. You sure deserve to be loved by not only me, but many many more."

Again, there was a hum and he wondered whether the woman’s words arrived where they were supposed to. He saw the legs move up and down, back and forth as she worked.

“Can’t… everybody be like you? No, not everybody. Just one human is enough. But- what if a person from the past meets me and suddenly likes me, even if they liked me before. They liked me, stopped and then started again. Isn’t that a good thing? Then I can continue living in the past and don’t have to change anything.” Another hum before the low voice added, “I like that.”

_Ouch._

"But what about you, Hyungwon? Isn't it important who you like? What does it matter if someone likes you or not, if your feelings are important? Maybe I talk too much about receiving affection. Loving somebody is just as relevant, my sunshine. It's the best feeling in the world. Most intense, most awesome, most painful, but still the best. The easy way is not always the optimal. Did you drink enough today? Your lips are dry." The women packed up the empty bag and stopped, probably looking at Hyungwon because she didn't move.

_She cares so much about him._

He saw how Hyungwon jumped down from the counter, followed by water running in the tap before the glass was placed on the counter. Hyungwon must have drunk it before jumping back up on his spot on the counter. He mostly listened to what his grandma had to say and needed a while to reply, obviously thinking about her words.

“Is it when you smell a particular scent and think back to every single time that you embraced that person?” the other man asked eventually. “When you think about buying the same fragrance and spreading it all over your house because it makes you happy? I like it more than the walnut, even though I hate change. I thought about the bathroom too, but that would probably be weird. I tend to be weird.”

"You're not weird, Hyungwon. I'm happy that you feel this way. Change isn't always as bad as it feels at first. It's exhausting and sometimes it hurts, but the outcome is worth it. Like when one works out too hard and you have muscle pain, but it grows, and you'll be able to run faster, to jump higher, to be a better version of yourself. I have an appointment at the hairdresser, so I'll be on my way, text me if I must get you anything else, okay? And please make sure to drink, it's important."

There was another hum, feet that walked towards the door and another pair that followed until he heard the lock and silence. He stayed under the bed just in case and thought about the conversation he just witnessed. It felt strange. At one point it appeared as if Hyungwon simply wanted him to act on the promise without feeling a single thing and next thing he knew, the low voice talked about his scent and how much he missed it.

 _But he didn't write_ back. _He never did._

Suddenly, the feet that had stood close to the front door without moving began to run all the way towards the bed. As soon as they stopped abruptly, he was met with a round face that stared at him, body lying on the floor right next to the bed.

“Are you okay?” Hyungwon asked and stretched out a hand to reach for his arm, tugging at it a little. “You should come out. You’re so buff and must be feeling like a fish in a can.”

Laughing in response, he took the big hand and used his strength and the fact that Hyungwon lay flat on the floor, to pull him under the bed with him.

"It's okay, actually. I could get used to that. Lying under your bed and spreading the scent of cherry for you." He observed the look on the handsome face, the pretty locks covering Hyungwon's forehead and how gorgeous he looked, especially when there was so little light that he could feel a brief tingling. "Your grandma is really nice, and she loves you a lot. It's great to see."

“Oh,” Hyungwon murmured and his eyes widened. “You heard. About me spreading the cherry scent. That’s- the truth.”

"You said that you can't lie, so I'll believe you." He squeezed the slim wrist and smiled without making any attempts to crawl from under the bed. His thoughts were circling around the conversation and he shifted to be close enough for Hyungwon to have difficulties averting his gaze.

"You said you don't lie. Then tell me one thing, Hyungwon. Do you like me?"

***

_Do you like him?_

He smiled because it was such an easy question, much easier than anything Hoseok had asked him before. This wasn't about complicated emotions, about his reasons for doing the things he did and being the way he was. It also wasn't his grandma telling him about the ways of humans and asking him to abandon the past and focus on the future.

This was Hoseok asking him a question that was as easy as it was logical.

"Of course, I do," he replied and crawled forward a little, just enough to be able to cover Hoseok's hand with his own. There wasn't a lot of space under the bed and since the last time he hid there, quite a lot of time passed, making the space even narrower. "How could I not like you?"

_He is person number two. Being one of the important people means they must be important. How could you not like somebody important?_

“I’m jealous because it seems so easy for you to tell me that. So quickly, without a single thought, naturally.” A sound he couldn’t put anywhere left the other man’s lips before he closed his eyes and continued without looking at him. “But it’s okay. As your grandma said: your feelings are most important, and if that’s the way you feel, I will keep it in mind and be thankful.” Suddenly, he was pulled forward and Hoseok wrapped his arms around him tightly, burying his nose in the crook of his neck.

_Maybe he feels the same about scent?_

He closed his eyes and cuddled closer, stroking over Hoseok's hair as he wondered whether that was what being together actually meant. Lying under a bed and hugging didn't sound too far from what he might usually do.

"Does my scent also make you happy?" he whispered and licked over a part of Hoseok's ear because it looked just like a heart.

“It’s complicated. Many things about you make me happy and many make me sad too, but I’m desperate. Your scent gives me the illusion that it’s me that you want.” A soft kiss lingered below his earlobe before Hoseok loosened his embrace and pulled himself to the side easily before standing up. “I’ll take a shower to spread more of that scent that makes you happy.”

"O-okay," he muttered, furiously thinking whether he still had to do anything for that, but he had already shown Hoseok the shampoo and given him a towel. He also didn't really understand why Hoseok talked about an illusion if neither of them was dreaming or hallucinating. What they saw was real, right? So why would being liked be an illusion?

_Because you think that somebody does, but they don't._

He bit down on his bottom lip, hard because it distracted him from the thoughts mixing inside his head. He remembered his school time, the loud laughs that he thought were joining him instead of being about him. Even when he held his graduation certificate he wasn't sure if they had ever joined him in the first place.

"You think… us liking each other is an illusion?" he asked quietly and fumbled with his shirt. He didn't like that he was wearing it, but humans didn't run around naked. "Is it pretence then?"

“No, not really. I don’t think it’s an illusion, I just wish it was different, but I won’t talk about it anymore, don’t worry. It makes you uncomfortable, right?” The pale face appeared next to him and the strong arms simply pulled him from under the bed before lifting him to his feet. “You should drink more while I’m in the shower. I’ll check.” Hoseok was too fast for him to reply anything coherent and turned around, walking towards his bathroom and taking off his shirt on the way, broad shoulders moving graciously.

_He's so beautiful._

He instantly wanted to lick the space between Hoseok's shoulder blades, but humans didn't do such strange things, so he had to figure out what humans did.

_They keep things clean and they eat._

He nodded to himself and ran to the kitchen, making sure that nothing stood around and everything was at its place. Hoseok probably ate different things from what he ate, but he couldn't be sure because he wasn't him. There had never been anybody else eating at his apartment.

_There has never been anybody else._

He opened the fridge and started to take out arbitrary things and arrange them on the small table. When most of the table was covered, he started stacking things on the counters. That way Hoseok was able to see everything that was there and choose something. In the meantime, he could pretend to be human and make coffee like humans did. They drank coffee, lifted off their pinkies while drinking and laughed at everything even if it wasn't funny.

When he heard the water stop in the shower, he quickly jumped up on the counter and held one of his teacups in his right hand while lifting his pinkie in the air. His legs were crossed too, and he must have looked just like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct, hopefully.

The broad figure appeared with only a towel wrapped low around his hips and walking towards his suitcase, probably to get out things to put on instead of the once worn clothes. When Hoseok found what he had been looking for, he glanced to the side and remained in that exact position, staring at him.

“W-what… what happened?”

"Huh?" he commented and almost ruined his perfectly planned stance by tilting his head. "I took out everything that you might possibly want to eat. This way you can see it all and choose."

He chuckled because that was what humans did.

“But you know what I could’ve done too? Simply opened the fridge and looked inside and then asked you what I would be allowed to take. God, I must make you so incredibly uncomfortable. Apart from if you wanted to be the dessert or something.” Unwrapping the towel, Hoseok slipped into his underwear, showing his gorgeous behind, plump and muscular.

He forgot what he wanted to say for a moment, too distracted by the sight until those round eyes settled on him again and he remembered the situation.

_Humans know how to find things in the fridge. Only you don't._

"Ah, of course. How silly of me not to think of that, ha-ha," he remarked and tilted his cup to drink from it, only to realise that it was empty. He should have filled it. "Right, you wanted me to drink."

Just when he wanted to jump from the counter, he realised that he would have to give up on his nice position, so he remained in place after all, simply staring.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Hoseok hissed before walking right towards him with his incredibly attractive body on display. If only those eyes didn’t look a tiny bit scary. He only managed to blink once before he was simply lifted from the counter and carried to the hallway where Hoseok for some reason lay down, letting his back touch the nice texture of the carpet and enveloping him in the delicious scent of cherry that seemed so intense suddenly.

He mumbled something, but it wasn't coherent because his mouth was covered by skin and warmth and cherry and somehow it also didn't matter anymore. A hum left his lips and he buried his face deeper within the scent that made him happy. The fluffiness of his carpet was below him, but there was too much clothing to tell. Still, he hummed some more and brushed over it with his right hand, enjoying it a little too much. His mind felt empty as he did it and he wrapped his legs around Hoseok's body to keep the state for a little longer. It was so peaceful.

Hoseok didn't say anything and just held him close, letting him feel his body weight as he lowered his hips on top of him. The cherry scent still enclosed him, and it seemed as if the time stood still and only those regular breaths that hit his skin reminded him that the world was still turning.

His muscles relaxed, making him realize how tense they had been in the first place. His own breaths slowed down until they matched the ones tickling his ear, making everything around him seem peaceful somehow.

"Oh," he gasped, unsure how else to describe his realization. He hadn't even felt his own tension and worries. Now that they slowly slipped away it felt like he finally reached the surface of the lake, inhaling a deep gulp of air.

“Is this okay?” the low voice asked next to his ear, quietly and only accompanied by a soft exhale.

"Yeah," he murmured in reply and brushed his nose over the warm skin. If he was this close, it seemed like he could even breathe underwater if he had to. "It's perfect. I don't- don't have enough words to tell you how perfect, because I'm bad with words."

_Somehow, he knows exactly how to make it feel like this._

“You are not, but you think that you are. I’m pretty good with words but I can’t seem to find the right thing to say. You can stay like this as long as you like, but I feel like I’m squishing you with my weight.” Hoseok lifted his hips a little and must’ve propped up on his elbow, moist hair lifting from his skin.

"No, no, no," he mumbled and tried to pull Hoseok down again. "Please squish me."

“But what if you forget to breathe because I’m so heavy that I compress your lungs? I don’t want to hurt you right after coming to your place and making you feel terrible. How about you lie on top of me if you like and if I’m a suitable replacement for the carpet?” Hoseok lay on his back and turned his head to look at him, wet hair covering his forehead and a bit of blush making his cheeks look delicious.

He nodded quickly because everything that involved staying attached to the firm body was a wonderful idea. Hoseok's cheeks were too pretty not to touch, so he stroked over them once and gave each a soft kiss before lying down on top of the muscular man. He enjoyed the way it felt, even if Hoseok wasn't squishing him the way he liked it. But maybe he could hug him tightly, just like he would a human, a special human.

"Could you hug me tightly?" he whispered and inhaled even more cherry. "Like a human you love."

"You don't need to feel and act a certain way to be loved," the low voice whispered, before Hoseok pulled him closer, wrapping his muscular arms around him and holding him flush against his naked chest. It seemed strange that he was the one dressed.

"And still you are only here now," he replied, barely louder than the blood rushing in his ears. The man holding him right now was Hoseok, the boy who had promised to be with him, but still his memories and experiences made him think of the man behind the wall. The only human who told him that he liked him without having to pretend.

"What do you mean?" Hoseok only tightened his embrace, as if he could read his thoughts and knew that he was thinking about someone else.

"Something must have happened for you to come here, to decide to be with me." He didn't want to talk about his pretence, so he pointed out the obvious. Hoseok had been hurt by him and loved somebody else all this time. There had been his attempt to provide bodily satisfaction, but Hoseok had still loved the man he couldn't touch. Was a rejection enough to choose somebody else? Was he the replacement model for the person Hoseok couldn't have?

_Whatever it is, you wanted it._

"Mhm, you're right. Something happened. I realised something. I'm not here because of the promise. I'm here because of you. You said you can't change, so I decided that I will be the one who will." Warmth made room for more cool air that crawled between them, separating their bodies. He didn't want to separate, so he tried to hold on tighter, pulling his thighs together with his legs on each side of Hoseok's body.

_You can't change, so he changed himself._

He tried to make sense of the words, but if Hoseok decided to accept the promise because he couldn’t forget about it, then how was it not about the promise? Or did Hoseok decide to change his feelings about him, to suddenly start liking him even though he hadn't before?

"Do you like me?" he asked back, wondering why the answer had never mattered to him before. The man behind the wall had told him that he did, that he did even more than just like him, a feeling he didn't even have the experience to describe. Still, he wanted to know whether there was any depth behind Hoseok coming to be and live with him.

_Why can't you stop comparing them? Isn't it enough that they both matter?_

"If I say yes it will be true, but it will also not be the whole truth. Just know that I do. There is this poem I wrote that I keep thinking about.

You said

That you are you

With me

But why did you

Not want

The me I am?

You picked the shadow

Failing to be you again

Like I'm not me

And so, we stay

Deceived and devastated

But still, we stay.

It might be a bit confusing, but that's how I feel. I should write it down, and you probably have to work, right?" Hoseok kissed his eyelids, making him close his eyes, before he sat up and took him along. "I really don't need anything. You don't need to bother. Just be yourself. If you can."

His eyes closed and his whole self-drowned in cherry, but still the words were pulling at something inside of him. It seemed to be a distant memory, a state that he felt reminded of without experiencing it.

_The poem is similar to what you programmed, but at the same time it makes you feel the same way his poems do._

His. The man behind the wall.

"You- you think that it's not you that I want?" he whispered before swallowing, unable to explain why his heart was suddenly hammering in his chest and he could barely breathe.

"No. I do think that with your logical brain and your plan to stick to the promise, you want this, I know that you chose it, but I can't help wishing that you would've chosen differently." Hoseok smiled strangely, leaning forward and observing him.

_He wanted you to choose differently?_

"I don't understand," he murmured and tightened his grip on the muscular body because choosing differently meant not having Hoseok next to him right now. "Choosing differently would mean not choosing you. I thought you like me. You said so. So… why?"

"Because… I am not me and you are not you," the low voice whispered before he was pulled to his feet and he knew Hoseok was about to step back.

_He knows. He knows that you are pretending._

His eyes watered, and he knew he had to act quickly, so he leaped forward and wrapped his legs around Hoseok's hips, repeating the same with his arms around the firm neck.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I promise I'll try harder, so that you cannot tell so easily."

A warm hand travelled over his hair and shoulders, curling around his waist and holding him in place. "You fool. If you like the past so much let me ask you one question. Why would a person who liked your pink shorts, your alien talk and your sticker album that you filled according to some random rules, want you to act like every other person he knows and isn't interested in? Make it make sense. And don't be sorry. There is nothing you should be sorry about, apart from coming to the wedding and the words that remain unsaid."

_The things you don't say. You need to know them to say them._

"Because children grow up," he replied and pressed his lips to a warm patch on Hoseok's neck that smelled especially strongly like cherry. "Because you haven't seen much of me apart from a poor excuse of a human. The last time you told me that you couldn't be with me and I lost all sense of myself, so how could you still want to hear the alien talk and the random rules? Make it-" He tried to contain a sob, "make it make sense."

"It must seem so strange to you, but it's so natural to me. I won't explain because… because I don't know what will happen, just know that I… like you just the way you are, little alien." Hoseok moved, carrying him to the bed and leaving him there like a doll before getting busy with sorting the groceries back into the fridge.

Suddenly, the motions stopped and there was pure silence for a few seconds before the low voice whispered a barely audible "I miss you."

_But you're right here, aren't you?_

He only hummed in reply, still lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. He felt confused and Hoseok's words weren't the only reason. It seemed like having another person in his apartment threw him onto the streets of pretending without any time to prepare. Home was the place he recovered, but now there was no recovery for him, only being human and his inability to understand what was happening around him. In the end, he also missed somebody.

The man behind the wall.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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CHAPTER 13

_“But what if we meet and you don't like me anymore?"_

_"That's never going to happen. Once I like somebody, I just don't stop."_

_

One step sounded after another, so familiar that he had to force himself to look to not be deceived. Hoseok smiled at him, lifting his right arm in a brief wave as he slipped into his sneakers that stood right next to his own. The spot was usually empty and the only thing staring back at him were the two grey lines that he had accidentally placed there with dirty shoes and hadn’t cleaned up since. Now they weren’t visible because a pair of black sneakers hid them, for seconds on end until Hoseok stepped back from the wall and finally walked out of the door.

_He is going for a run before bed._

He heard the explanation and he knew what it meant. It wasn’t new to him and he understood that after taking a run through the neighbourhood Hoseok was going to come back and lie down next to him in bed, share the same air and do what people who live together and eventually marry do. This was exactly what he wanted, he knew, but still there was a sense of calm that washed over him once the black shoes disappeared and he could finally see the two grey lines again.

_Because this is how it has always been._

As soon as he returned to his bedroom and his steps faded into nothing, the silence became deafening once again. Even though he always needed the lack of sound to fall asleep, he found himself listening in, attempting to hear something on the other end of the wall. Something. Anything.

“Are you there?” he found himself whispering to the white wall, but there was no reply. Just like there was no letter on the carpet, waiting to be read. It almost seemed as if the man behind the wall had disappeared right after holding him until he fell asleep. They were close and right after the silence returned.

_Like an unwelcome guest._

He should have pulled the blanket all the way to his neck and attempted to fall asleep, but he wasn’t able to. Not with so many thoughts inside his head. He was himself but being himself meant being confused and lost in everything that had happened to him in the span of a few days. There was nobody left to explain, nobody that would have been able to put everything into perspective without instantly having assumptions about the way he was and acted. His grandma would have said that he was being naive and didn’t know what situation he had gotten himself into. She would have worried pointlessly and talked to Hoseok without considering that he wanted this, he did. He wanted to fulfil the promise and stop being lonely, but somehow, he also wanted the space next to his shoes to remain empty and for a letter to appear under his door.

_A letter._

He threw the blanket to the side and pulled at the pyjama he was wearing. Humans didn’t always remain naked, so there was nothing he could do but wear a pyjama to sleep and therefore be just like them. The fabric also disturbed him when he sat down on his chair and grabbed a pen and paper, but he did his best to ignore it.

The feeling that washed over him was difficult to describe as all emotions were, but the way it bubbled in his chest felt so good. As if the scent of paper and the sensation of a pen in his hand was enough to make him feel good. He couldn’t help the smile that spread his cheeks and how his left hand stroked over the paper.

_You missed it. You missed writing to him and you miss him._

Usually, he would have waited to find the right words before staining the paper with ink, but this time it felt like too many words were contained within him and needed to be released, spilled onto bright white like a stain.

‘I keep thinking about you,’ he started even though he had wanted to talk about his confusion at first. ‘I keep thinking about all these things that are somehow related to you. Sounds of steps, the scent of cherry even though I smell it on a different person, my fluffy blanket because you said you would like to be like that for me. I think of you when I lie in my bed and try to hear you, but don’t. I miss the sounds, the voice behind the wall, the sound of your fingers stroking over it, your arms around me, the way you explained this to me. Everything. I miss everything, and I don’t know what to do about it.’

He swallowed as the familiar heaviness of tears welled up in his chest. If Hoseok returned right now, he wouldn’t know how to explain his state and why he was so sad while writing a letter to a person that hadn’t replied.

‘Actually, I wanted to ask you for advice, but here I am unable to focus on anything but how much you are missing. I hoped you took your letter back just to add the poems you wanted to share with me, but it seems like you must have changed your mind. I do not know why, but maybe there is some reason that I am simply not aware of. Something that I would understand as soon as you explain it to me, as so often. Do you think you could explain my current life to me too?’

He chuckled and rubbed over his eyes to cheat himself into thinking that everything was fine and as soon as he handed over his letter, there was going to be another one. Beautiful and just right to make him feel so much better.

‘I told you before that I need a promise, something to be sure that a person will stay with me because I am not human. Have you… ever wanted something, but as soon as you received it you suddenly didn’t feel all that sure anymore? Maybe I couldn’t imagine it, but probably there is simply something wrong with me. I feel lost because of another pair of shoes in my hallway, another person that needs to eat, the sound of breaths next to me without feeling a warm embrace. There are also strange things that I am not able to explain, things about the man living with me now that remind me of you. Is there something about the scent of cherry that my species enjoys? Is that why I seem to want to be with people that smell like cherry?’

_You talk so much about yourself._

‘But enough of me. How are your nights feeling now? Do you feel alive? Is that why there is no need to have me witness it? Have you decided to pack your suitcase after all? I kept hoping that you don’t, but just thinking about you having done that makes me shake all over. Was there really no space for me inside of it? I hate change and I hate having another pair of shoes next to mine, but somehow, I feel like I would have still hidden inside your suitcase if I had known that you are leaving. I will hope for an answer because I once read that hope dies last. I don’t feel alive anymore when you aren’t here, H.’

The pen lifted off the paper and he placed it next to the sheet, staring at the resulting letter. For the first time he wondered if it was okay to say all these things, if he revealed something about himself that the man behind the wall didn’t like. Something that made him reluctant to reply and maybe even act on the desire to leave. Leave him.

_But he said he lives of the truths that you share, both of you._

Sucking his lips into his mouth, he folded the paper into what he hoped resembled a heart and remembered to draw one in the corner just in time before hurrying over to the door next to his and slipping the paper under it. He waited for several seconds, maybe even minutes, hoping to feel the brief touch of fingers. But it didn’t come. There was no touch and there were no steps, nothing. As if there was nobody living on the other side of the wall anymore. Nobody but an eternity of silence.

_

The screeching of a chair as it moves back over parquet floors, an exhale followed by a sheet of paper moving in the air. His eyes were closed, but still he recognized those sounds and knew exactly which one was going to happen next. The cap of a fountain pen was removed just as he expected and after another breath he heard the familiar scratching of the pen on paper, leaving words and sentences that were able to make him skip a breath or inhale twice instead of once.

_It’s him._

He contained a jerk, because he didn’t know how loud it could have been. The bed didn’t screech, but still the wall was close, so close that a breath was loud enough to be heard. He shifted and slipped his blanket a little lower on his chest, realizing that it was covered and shifting some more because he didn’t like the way it felt. His ear was quick to press against the wall, hoping to hear even more, but instead of listening to louder motions of a pen on paper, he began to hear them louder with his other ear.

_As if… they are right next to you._

His eyes opened, and he turned, blinking a few times to get used to the unexpected light of his desk lamp.

At the desk, there was a broad silhouette of a person, leaning over a notebook and moving the fountain pen over paper, so well audible in the silence of the night. His alarm clock showed a three, a two and another three, indicating that he should've been asleep.

The person was so immersed into writing that it seemed as if there was nothing around him, nothing that mattered apart from those letters that formed words on the pale sheets continuously. Leaning to the side, he recognised the soft profile, teeth that chewed on a plump lip, eyes that didn't blink and stared at the words written in front of them.

_Hoseok?_

He didn’t dare speak, not if it meant that the other man’s concentration was going to be broken and along with it the moment. There was something surreal about the sight in front of him, about the time of his alarm clock and the fact that the sounds and their order were so familiar to him but happened inside his own room instead of behind the wall.

_But how is that possible?_

He kept silent and stared, listening intently for the pattern of breaths, for the repeated scratching and possibly for even more sounds that were familiar to him. A hint of disappointment was there too, weighing heavy in his stomach, but he didn’t dare mention it out loud inside his own thoughts. That would make it too real. He shouldn’t have been disappointed about Hoseok’s presence, not after wanting it for so long.

A few seconds ticked by, making the silence around them even heavier before Hoseok lay his head on the desk on top of his notebook and sighed. It seemed like he knew that sound too, but it must've been a mistake. Did all humans sound the same?

They didn't.

Before he could continue with more disappointment, he heard the light scratching of fingers on the wooden surface of his desk, as if Hoseok was trying to imitate the person behind the wall for some reason. The scratching turned into the fingertips stroking over paper and when he closed his eyes he could've sworn it could've been happening in the apartment next door.

_Why is it so similar?_

The person that has been sitting at his desk tried to be quiet as he stood up and walked towards the toilet absentmindedly, turning the key in the lock and leaving him alone, staring at the notebook. A few seconds passed during which he tried to listen in and understand if the steps sounded the same too, if there was something wrong with his perception as it kept mixing the two men that mattered the most to him. The two men he struggled to tell apart.

_You must look._

He lifted the blanket away from his body, doing his best to remain quiet as he tiptoed over to his desk and glanced past the chair and finally let his eyes rest on the sheet of paper that Hoseok had been writing on and reading line after line.

_Seconds rush from me_

_I follow, but I fail again_

_Is it because the place they went_

_Is not where I can find you?_

_Or is it me?_

_The sounds of my steps_

_That don't feel right?_

_Or maybe it's because_

_I'm not the shadow that you wanted_

_And therefore_

_Not enough._

He stared, overwhelmed because instead of remaining as meaningless interconnected words the ones before him created meaning inside his mind, a feeling that he wasn’t able to put into words, but that was induced by them. Until now the one who was able to make him feel the most with his words was the man behind the wall, but also Hoseok had been able to explain words to him, disagreeing with him on intimacy and closeness, on wanting to be close to somebody else but choosing him instead.

_It must be about the person he wanted to be with. The person that decided to be with somebody else._

He stroked over the paper, unable to help it and accidentally smeared the ink on the word enough, making the word look even sadder than it had before. His bottom lip quivered a little because Hoseok must have wanted to be with somebody else, to be with a person that he was not.

_How can you be enough then?_

He inhaled sharply and held his breath as he turned the page to another poem, stroking over each line as he read it. He liked the way the paper felt under his fingertips. It felt like he was even closer to the words.

_Change._

_When I look into your eyes,_

_they look so empty, tired and distant._

_Is it me who changed,_

_Or maybe it's your sentiment_

_And you don't lie_

_You said you don't_

_Because you're different_

_But does it matter_

_If what I feel is still the same?_

_I wish you'd lie to me_

_Or make me leave._

_I am too weak._

_You are my weakness._

Trembling from the way the poem made him feel, he climbed on top of the chair and pulled his legs closer to his chest. That didn’t make the feeling any better, so he simply wrapped his arms around the sheet with the poem and held it against his face, smelling the ink. The chair had just the right setting to lean forward a little bit if he did it and back as soon as he wanted it to. Seesawing back and forth, he smelled the paper and hoped that whoever Hoseok wanted to be with so badly was going to stop treating him like this and be with him. It must have hurt so much. So so much.

_Enough to go to an alien instead._

***

_There is a smooth line_

_From the shadow of his earlobe_

_To the crook of his shoulder_

_His round jaw_

_It looks as if he is smiling_

_And you could lift your gaze_

_And see_

_And feel_

_But you can only_

_Look at your feet_

_And the drying ink._

When he decided to take a step towards being a shadow of himself for the sake of being with the person he loved, he couldn’t have imagined the pain it would cause him to sit at the desk that he knew Hyungwon had written his letters for him, watching the beautiful man sleep soundly. Now it was him writing poems about how difficult it was to be close, watching the difference, feeling the difference and gaining so much awareness of what he has been missing.

Instead of a low voice that hummed or returned a sentence or two in a genuine way, muffled by a wall or the door, there was babbling, strange comparisons, flirting that didn’t quite reach those eyes and only when he had taken the other man to the carpet, it seemed as if a bit of the person he loved shone through.

But a shimmer in the dark corner of a stuffy room was not comparable to the sun if he knew how the warmth of those sunrays felt against his skin and how he squinted because it was so bright, attempting to see more through the spaces between his fingers. Hyungwon was like the sun that was suddenly covered by a thousand layers of dark fabric and no matter how much he tried to remove them, it seemed as if he couldn’t because he was the shadow of himself and his shadow could only exist and nothing more.

When he had returned from a run, his feet carried him to his own door, but he had stopped in time. He couldn’t go in because entering the apartment would mean that it would be harder to come out, to be the Hoseok for Hyungwon. The child who promised and who came to fulfil it. Just like it should be.

_He doesn’t want you._

A sad smile spread his lips as he glanced at Hyungwon hugging the blanket before he read over the poem again.

_But you can only look_

_At your feet,_

_The drying ink,_

_And his closed eyes._

_When he’s awake_

_Your gaze would show_

_And he will recognise_

_The you,_

_who’s not enough_

He added the few words that forced tears into his eyes and closed his notebook, daring one last glance at the beautiful sleeping face.

His steps were almost quiet, non-existent, like him, as he walked around the bed, carefully slipping next to Hyungwon, inhaling his scent and hoping that sleep would come to save him from this torture.

It didn’t.

_

A few days passed in the same straining and depressing way. He watched Hyungwon try to break his routine to talk to him in the morning, visibly struggling and sighing in relief as soon as the door closed, and he was free. Free from him.

_He called you a saviour_

_But doesn't a cage_

_Feel safe too?_

He couldn't sleep at night and only managed to close his eyes for an hour or two during the day, when Hyungwon was at work and he too could breathe, write. He wished that he had the ability to dream, to imagine and live in a world that wasn't his to have. Oh, how great would it have been to dream of those arms around him, those words. He missed the feeling that there was still hope where no decision was made. Where change only meant good things. Where it meant that he got closer step by step to the person he loved. When he didn't know what kind of past connected them. When he wasn't a saviour, when there was no promise, but when he was just a man behind the wall, getting a little too involved with the person in the apartment across.

It seemed so easy back then.

He understood that he had forged the outcome by hiding his face and allowing the events to take place, to take them both and catch them in a whirlwind that he couldn't unwind. He knew that he could say that he was the person who sang happy birthday quietly and who knew every single step of the routine that he could now see with his own eyes. But there was one issue with that. One that forced itself onto the pale sheets of paper, every night that he spent writing, more and more. The realisation that was so simple but merciless, crushing every hope that might have bubbled inside his chest when he got a glimpse of the sun, lifting a layer before it fell back on the bright entity.

_He doesn't want you._

_And he doesn't want your shadow either._

Swinging the pen in his hand, he wrote the words that formed inside his mind, tender and owned by a person who didn't want to show themselves.

_The planet that you're from_

_What is it like?_

_Do you belong, or do you still_

_Feel like the world is full_

_and there's no place_

_For you?_

_When I don't sleep_

_My bare feet cover the grass_

_Across the house_

_My eyes go up to all those stars_

_Thinking of the time that was_

_Forever wishing you the warmth I felt_

_when your thin arms wrapped around me._

_When I think back, I wonder_

_Was I the planet that you called your home?_

Even if he might have been a home at some point, the little alien, the man who he thought he knew but didn't know at all, didn't want him. Nothing of him. Not the person that he was at night and not the shadow that he was during the day. He wanted the feeling of safety and affection that he had given many years ago, complimenting those pink shorts, building spaceships and hoping to stay together, even after time has passed.

He wasn't that boy who promised and contrary to what Hyungwon said, he wasn't the little alien either. He grew up, trying to fit in, but remained so mercilessly honest with his eyes, his hands, his gestures, showing him that this wasn't going to work.

Everything seemed grey and even the picture from a few weeks ago when he arrived at the stuffy apartment, seemed so colourful compared to what he was able to see right now.

He just wanted someone to write to him. Even if it ended up being a piece of paper with the house rules, decorated with three messy exclamation marks.

_

Sorting his shoes, that's what Hyungwon did when he had nothing more to say. When the silence between them stretched for so long that they knew there was no point to say anything anymore. The shoes were sorted already, but Hyungwon put every pair down and started again, organising them in detail according to a rule he couldn't understand.

Suddenly, there was a gasp and he turned around, rolling back on the office chair after doing some left-over work for the University project.

_How did you not realize that it was him? He even made a swan for you._

There was nothing extraordinary, only the slim arms that held a white piece of paper and loud breaths filling the silence with meaning.

His heart skipped a beat too because it reminded him of how he used to hold paper between his fingers, but now it seemed like a long-gone dream. A dream that couldn't have been true because he never dreamt.

Hyungwon didn't move, eyes focused on the piece of paper between his fingers and how they shook uncontrollably. The other man resembled a statue as he sat on his calves on the floor and lifted his arms a little higher as if he was holding something precious. Suddenly a sob left the plump mouth instead of a gasp, before the paper was hugged tightly to the other man's chest and he rolled up on the carpet, mumbling something he couldn't understand.

He couldn't understand the reaction, but Hyungwon wasn't okay, so he hurried over, carefully checking if he could touch the other man's shoulder briefly.

"Hey. Did something happen? Is everything okay?" he asked, keeping his grip gentle.

Hyungwon shook his head furiously, but he couldn't tell if he meant his first or his second question. The slim body was so tense that a brief touch of his shoulder didn't change anything about his posture. The paper he was holding was slightly wrinkled, but Hyungwon didn't seem to care as his left hand kept stroking over it as he mumbled more words.

Leaning closer enabled him to understand them. "I ruined everything," Hyungwon whispered accompanied by another sob. "Everything, everything, everything."

He shook his head this time and lay on the carpet next to the other man, realising that there was no point in trying to loosen his posture. "You didn't ruin anything, Hyungwon. What happened? What's this paper?" He wanted to look at it but there was no way with how tightly Hyungwon was pressing it to his chest, as if it belonged inside his heart, or lungs, as if it was a limb that was separated from his body. "Maybe I can help if you tell me."

"It's special," Hyungwon mumbled, hugging it even tighter. "Special, special, special and I ruined it all. I always do. I come and ruin things because I don't know. I lost everything and I'm making you lose everything too. I'm terrible."

He thought about the words, but there was nothing true about them. Maybe Hyungwon destroyed the path that he had decided to follow before, but at the same time, the other man enabled him to feel so much more. More than he could ever imagine feeling.

He shook his head, carefully wrapping his arms around Hyungwon's shoulders, before hugging even tighter. "You're wrong. I don't know what you lost, but you aren't making me lose everything. I gained so much. The things I've lost, I've already lost, it's too late and I know and maybe they have never been mine, but… I will pack my suitcase and I will stop torturing you with my presence. I know that I'm doing it and I will stop. I hope that you can finally breathe then. I'm sorry for doing this to you. I should've known better."

"No!" Hyungwon yelled and the sound was so loud that it hurt. Still holding onto the paper, the long arms wrapped around him and squeezed, barely allowing any air to pass. "Not the suitcase. Not you too. Don't leave me. I'll be better. I'll find the person that you love, I promise. I'll show them how wonderful you are."

_The person that you love. He wants to find him?_

"The… the person I love? What do you mean?" he asked, taken aback, but letting his eyes flutter shut because somehow, even though Hyungwon must've been feeling terrible, the person in his arms resembled the sun so much that he couldn't help but enjoy it as long as it lasted. "I'm not wonderful. I'm… a shadow. You don't even like me, Hyungwon. Why would you lie to yourself? You don't need to. Not to yourself and not to me."

The big brown eyes that suddenly settled on his caught him off guard, much more attentive than only a moment ago as Hyungwon mumbled and begged him to stay.

"You don't like me either," the low voice whispered. "I know you don't. It's somebody else for you, the person you left and write poems about. I'm sorry that I'm not them but- but I'll find them for you. So please don't leave."

_He's sorry, when he's right here. It's you. You're the faulty part._

"Is there someone that you like? A person that makes you feel alive? Someone who was faster than me? Who can comfort you and make you feel at ease? Because I'm going to cry blood, but if there's someone like that for you, I will pack my suitcase and leave. I shouldn't promise anything, but I'll promise you this."

Hyungwon didn't reply, but his hands loosened a little around his neck, holding onto the paper with almost white fingers instead.

"I'm like you," the low voice whispered as a tear suddenly ran down the round cheek. "They left me behind. Because I made a mistake."

_This is so devastating._

He leaned forward and placed a kiss on the other man's forehead, keeping the touch for a few seconds. "A mistake? How could someone who loves you leave you behind? I could never do that. I'd suffer, and I won't sleep a single second, but I could not leave a person I love, apart from if they explicitly tell me to. If you tell me that there's someone else and you don't want me, I'm going to pack my suitcase and leave."

"The… the person you love," Hyungwon began and stroked over his cheek with his free hand, shaking a little whenever he exhaled. There were still the streaks of tears on his cheeks, reappearing whenever a new one rolled down to his chin. "You said that they chose somebody else. They didn't tell you to leave, but still you did, because they love somebody else. If- if I love somebody else, does that mean you will leave too?"

_He couldn't even say that he liked you, but he loves someone. Someone who isn't you._

Something inside his mind screamed at him that it didn't make sense, but he nodded, ignoring the voice that tried to gain his attention, that was preparing arguments, explaining why it couldn't be, but he knew the game. It hurt, so it must've been a mistake.

"But I don't want you to leave, even if there is somebody else I love. I want to… I want to help you find that person and make them understand. So that at least you're not alone. I'm… I'm used to it. I think that's the way I'm supposed to be, all by myself curled around something soft. It's- it's okay. Okay, okay, okay." Hyungwon repeated the last word a few more times, as if to convince himself as he smiled that smile of his which never reached his eyes. Tears were still developing, but still he smiled.

_'Even if there's somebody else I love'_

"I've been alone all this time, Hyungwon. The only person who knows me, wants someone else. Being next to you just showed me that I'm not the one you wanted. None of me is what you want and it's - it's okay, because you have the right to say what it is that you need and to make decisions according to your feelings. I'm sorry for hurting you. The person you love… I hope that you'll receive it all in return because you deserve it, Hyungwon. You're a big alien now. So beautiful and so amazing." He sat up, staring at his shoes that were the only ones left on the floor when Hyungwon's had been standing on the rack. Frowning at the symbolic gesture, he slipped into them. "It's time to leave. Take care, Hyungwon. I really liked saying your name. Hyungwon, Hyungwon, Hyungwon."

There wasn't much that he had unpacked, so he left the shampoo in the shower because Hyungwon liked the scent more than he liked him and took his suitcase, lifting it from the floor. How could it be that it felt so heavy when it was almost empty?

"Please be happy," he whispered before pushing the handle and feeling how the tears ran down his face, but he didn't want to show it.

The shadow was only supposed to exist, and nothing else.

***

_You hypocrite._

He had needed a while to finally learn the word and what it really meant. The day he understood was still as clear as day in his memories. There was him, sitting on a kitchen counter the way he always had, but in his grandma's kitchen, eating noodles without anything else but butter because he hated mixing flavours.

"What's a hypocrite?" he had asked, because just a moment ago grandma had called somebody that on the phone. It hadn't been the first time, but somehow, he had decided that this time he wanted to understand.

"A person that says one thing but does another." His grandma had smiled at him and lifted her eyebrow the way she always did when she joked. Somehow, he thought that she started doing that for him. "It's when you say that there is a rule and don't let anybody break it but break it yourself. That's when you are a hypocrite."

_You are a hypocrite._

His knees felt sore from the way he seesawed back and forth on them, bruising them with the edge of the carpet and his throat felt raw from the sobs that had shaken his whole body. There was no use anymore, he was a hypocrite and he was alone. _Alone, alone, alone._

The person that had promised to be with him if he didn't find anybody until he was twenty-five had just left through his front door because he liked somebody else. He who said it was meant to happen and there was no way around them being together because it was a promise. He who wanted nothing but to be with Hoseok as soon as they met, ended up being the one who liked somebody else.

_Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite._

He couldn't make sense of it, couldn't understand how it happened and why. How did he start liking a third person and even wanting to be next to that person instead of a human who promised to be with him? There was so much more safety in a promise, but still he wanted to be with the man behind the wall, the person who never promised anything. The human who had never seen him pretend and still liked him. Loved him.

_He said it, he said that he does but then you ruined it all._

Another wave of sobs passed through him and he lifted the letter he had been holding away from his chest. It was a little soaked, but the writing was still the same. It was a letter from the man behind the wall, a letter that had been below the shoe rack all this time and a letter he therefore hadn't answered.

_He waited for you. He waited and because you didn't write back he left._

He hated the thought. He hated it so much that he screamed out loud to make it go away and held his ears shut, screaming once more. It didn't help, and the thought was still there, repeating until he simply unfolded the letter completely and began to read. Tears blurred the lines whenever they dropped on the paper, but he didn't want to stop, not until he read the very last letter.

_H._

His whole body trembled as the last sentence remained in front of his eyes even though he closed them, ingrained the way he wished the person who wrote them was.

_Please tell me about your planet, so I can always come and find you there. H._

The man behind the wall had waited, telling him that he didn't mean to reject him and that he feared losing him the most. Instead of replying, he had only reinforced the fear and made him leave, made him leave just the way he had made Hoseok leave. He didn't know how to keep humans next to him, how to make himself seem worthy to be around, how to be human enough.

_He said you don't need to be human next to him, he said he likes you like this and now he's gone. He's gone because you didn't see his letter._

_You hurt a person you like, and you lost a person you like even more._

_Why are you even on earth?_

He felt the fabric of his carpet against his face, but it didn't help. Nothing helped as he kept rubbing his forehead over it and when it didn't help to silence his head, he lifted it off the floor just enough to let it fall again, pausing everything for a few seconds until he was forced to resume.

_Don't think, don't think, don't think._

He wished that he knew how to fade into stardust and return where he belonged, the way the only person that knew where he was from did.

_Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite._

He thought that this was what he wanted, a human who promised, was next to him and would marry him in the end. But he couldn't even pretend well enough to make Hoseok stay, to seem human enough to be worthy company. Instead, he had appeared like somebody who doesn't care, like somebody who doesn't like to have humans around, to have Hoseok around.

_Even though you are an alien that doesn't know how to behave and fears to be alone. An alien meant to be alone for the rest of your life._

He liked Hoseok and he hadn't wanted him to leave, not at all, but he also didn't know how to keep him around. He didn't know anything apart from not wanting to be alone and for those thoughts to stop. He didn't want to be hurt, he didn't want to be a hypocrite. He didn’t want to be alone.

_Alone, alone, alone._

He just wanted Hoseok to be happy and to have the man behind the wall. To have the man behind the wall right there, holding him until he felt better again.

_Thump, thump, thump._

When his head lifted off the carpet and landed on the edge of it, on the floor, there was nothing on his mind but the sound.

_Thump, thump, thump._

_

His body felt heavy, like a wet rag that somehow ended up on his carpet instead of himself. The softness was familiar, but nothing else was. It seemed like his mind had been wiped like a letter written in lemon juice under normal lighting.

_A letter._

His hands furiously patted the carpet until he found the letter from before, hugging it to his chest again in the hope that as soon as he read it a few times, the terrible feeling in his chest was going to disappear again.

_A sound in an eternity of silence._

It didn't, because nothing had changed. His tears dried and there was a dull ache in his head, but the circumstances were still the same. He was still the reason for Hoseok being upset and leaving and he was also the reason for the man behind the wall packing his suitcase. He was an alien, an alien that was meant to be alone.

There was no room for someone like him to be looking for love and companionship, so he buried his nails in his palms and forced himself to stand up. He was an adult now, he couldn't lie in one place for hours the way he had as a child. There was nobody to make him feel better, so he had to do it himself.

_Write a letter, even if only for yourself._

A quiet sob found its way to his throat and he hated that he couldn’t contain it. His back was straight as he walked towards his desk, but the pain in his chest still pulled him down.

Only once he was sitting on the chair and about to reach for an empty paper, he noticed the notebook lying on his desk. The same notebook that Hoseok wrote poems into every evening.

_The notebook that made you realise that you need the man behind the wall. That you must be in love with him._

He didn't know if it was love, but if there was a feeling that felt like dying without another person, then this must have been it.

Lifting the top of the notebook, he flipped the pages until he reached the most recent one.

In my head: your image

On my mind: your voice

And it sounds so calming

When you say that you are

Really not a human

Drained, exhausted, empty

Unable to pretend.

He swallowed, stroking over the edges of the page because the words must have been for him. He was the one who struggled to pretend, the one who couldn't do it well enough to fool a human.

Should I still be honoured

That you treat my shadow

Like you treat exactly

Everybody else?

I don't want your pretence

Handsome, lonely neighbour

I just want your voice

Muffled through the wall

In an eternity of silence

Telling me you're tired

Of this whole pretending

And that you feel like only

I will understand.

Holding his breath, he read the words again, and again, and again. He read them repeatedly in the hope that their meaning would become even clearer, more than just a complex mixture of fear and excitement in the pit of his stomach. A battle that he couldn't predict the winner of.

_Neighbour, he's talking to his neighbour. You, but also his neighbour._

_His neighbour who is… you._

His eyes widened and once more they ran over the lines, the familiar style and how well he seemed to understand it despite being poetry. The words were written for him, for him who received a promise and him who lives behind the wall. The him who keeps pretending to be human and the him that feels sick and tired of trying to be someone he is not.

_The real you._

His thumb and index finger travelled to his inner elbow before taking a bit of his skin and pinching it hard. The words in front of him didn't disappear and there was no doubt that the notebook was Hoseok's. The man behind the wall and Hoseok. The two people that he cared about were one, one person.

_A sound in an eternity of silence. A sound that you silenced._

Hoseok and the man behind the wall. One person that showed him their shadow and received pretence in return. One person that desired to see the real him as much as he yearned for the person that couldn't sleep, the real Hoseok.

Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok. The person he thought he was disappointing was in the end the person he wanted, the person he hadn't replied to and in the end…

_The person who left._

His fingers started shaking as he scrambled over to the wall, scratching over it as he tried to press his ear to the cold surface and hear something, anything.

_He said he will pack his suitcase. Pack his suitcase and leave. Not just you, but everything._

A sob shook his chest and he held his breath to hold it in and hear what was happening on the other side, whether there was a sound, a step, a chuckle, anything.

_You can't let him leave, no, no, no. He misunderstood, and you misunderstood. You can't ruin everything again, not when there is a real chance that he likes you._

"No, no, no," he whispered before shushing himself and scratching over the wall as a distraction. He was going crazy, unable to focus on anything while desperately trying to find a sign.

He thought the silence would drive him insane until suddenly he heard steps. Real steps on the wooden floor before the bed screeched and it sounded so beautiful and melodic after there had been nothing for days. A melody he wanted to play on repeat.

"Are you sad?" a low voice asked from behind the wall, accompanied by the sound of fingertips stroking over the surface slowly.

He didn't dare speak at first, terrified that he was going to break the moment and turn everything into a dream, one in which he was still alone and there was nothing left that he could do to correct his mistakes.

_Silence. Deadly silence._

Humming was the first sound he felt capable of, followed by another quiet sob, but mostly because he was so relieved to hear the familiar low voice. It seemed surreal that the person behind the wall was Hoseok, the man he had lived with for almost two weeks. The man he pretended for while also being the man he could be himself with.

_He knew, he knew what you are really like while you kept trying to be human._

"I'm so sorry, Hyungwon. I wish I could make it easier for you somehow." Those fingers were travelling over the wall, drawing patterns that he could imagine.

_He's here, he's really here._

"I'm sad," he whispered and followed the patterns with his own fingers, yearning to pass through the wall and wrap his arms around the man behind it. "Sad and so incredibly happy."

"I've read your letter. Just now, I did. You must've not seen mine and thought I didn't want to write to you, but- it was a misunderstanding, I thought you… you didn't want to respond anymore. I didn't want to make you sad. I only wanted to make you happy, but that didn't work out well," the low voice whispered, and he heard the bed screech again, scared that Hoseok would leave, but he only shifted to be closer to the wall.

"That's not true," he whispered back and pressed his palms flat against the wall before letting his body follow. "It's my fault. I didn't know anything, not even myself and what I'm thinking or feeling. I- I found your letter today and I was so so scared that you already left. I thought you left, but you didn't, so I feel like the happiest alien alive. I'm sad because a person left, but happy because you have returned, so happy that it overshadows the sadness. A-" He swallowed, feeling nervous. "A shadow left, and the light returned."

He heard a hum, muffled through the wall and wondered how one person could be so different that one could mistake them for two people. Every bit of intimacy he had experienced in his life was with the man behind the wall, his first kiss was the man behind the wall, the confusion but also the explanation was given to him by the man behind the wall, by Hoseok. Somebody who had given him the promise that helped him through loneliness was also the man who ended up liking him for the person he was, the alien he was.

"I told you. I can only leave when the person I love tells me to," Hoseok said quietly but he heard.

"Then don't," he muttered before repeating it louder. "Don't. I don't want you to. I don't want you to go anywhere and I'm telling you to stay. I hate changes but-"

The silence stretched, and he could barely breathe because he had never said it before, shaking so much that his fingers kept scratching over the wall.

"I hate changes, but if loving somebody means that life doesn't seem worth living without them, then I think I love you."

"Would… it be okay for me to stay here, behind this wall forever? Write poems for you and get replies, stuck through the door, read them in the darkness and write a response? Does it need to be this way for your voice to sound genuine? For me to listen to how you talk with so much emotion that your voice shakes or to hear how it's completely lacking any because you're too exhausted to feel anything at all? I just want you and I love you and I don't know if I just imagined all this intimacy and emotions inside my head."

_It's what you've given him._

He held his breath, scared once again of what it might mean. Was it too late to change something? Was he maybe a person that couldn't be themselves next to somebody else, an alien that only knew how to play a broken human? He didn't want to be, not next to the only person who liked him this way.

_You've given him nothing but the act of an artificial human during the past two weeks, nothing but your own discomfort and a smile to pretend that it isn't there._

"You don't need to be behind a wall for me to be truthful to you," he whispered and closed his eyes, feeling how a fresh tear rolled down his cheek. It felt like so much, the mere possibility that the person he cared about so much was still there and wanted to be with him. "I just keep trying to be human, to seem like everybody else and you're the only one I haven't done that with, the only one that seems to accept whatever I do. I- I don't take changes well, new objects in my apartment, a switch of routine, different smells and different things in my fridge. Another toothbrush confuses me and if at the same time I try to control my behaviour, it feels like I'm falling apart. I don't know why I can't say these things. People left so many times when I did. I'm scared of being left, so scared that tears are running down my face at the mere thought of you leaving."

Hoseok hummed as he talked, continuing with the calming sounds of his fingers drawing something on the wall, or maybe it was writing. "I can't handle the change of illumination. Sometimes it's so bad that I can't sleep a single second because the light intensity isn't right, because it's too bright, because the blinds are open. I can feel other people's discomfort so well, I can almost trace it tingling at my fingertips and being next to a person who I know is uncomfortable because of me, makes me want to disappear. I need to go out, run, or just stand outside with my feet in the grass to get a grip of my thoughts. It's confusing and it's painful. I'm… I'm not going to leave you, my beautiful alien. I love you, so I'm going to stay here, in the darkness, waiting for the sensation of your arms wrapping around me."

"Then," he began and carefully drew a line on the wall, imagining the place Hoseok must have been sitting, how he stayed close to the wall while sitting on the bed, wishing to be close to him just like he yearned to finally convince himself that this was real, that the man behind the wall existed and that it was really Hoseok. That there was no need to pretend anymore and be somebody else. "Then I'm going to join you at the place you feel the most alive. Because the one who makes me feel the most alive is you."

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the white wall, soft and no longer than a few seconds. It was only the beginning, a hint at what he yearned for as he climbed off the bed and reached for the notebook, hugging it to his chest as he counted his steps all the way to the door next to his own. The scent was the same, cherry, sweet and familiar, the scent that connected the two most important men in his life that ended up being only one, the man who liked him the way he was.

There was a slit in the door, showing that it was open without any light passing through. There was no need for light, he was entering the darkness after all. The darkness that he wished to share with the man within it.

He really hated changes, but somehow, entering the darkness and moving towards the person waiting for him, they didn't seem all that bad anymore.


	14. chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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CHAPTER 14

_“What would you do if I die in a ninja battle and you don't find anyone else?"_

_"I will turn into stardust and disappear. Like my mom."_

_

The shower only lasted a few minutes because the regular thumping sounds from the apartment next door didn't let him form a single thought. He heard the sobs even though usually, he would've been able to let the noise fade out and get rid of his thoughts. This time he couldn't, because he knew that it was the sadness of a person he loves and that he was at fault.

He had simply assumed because he wasn't able to communicate properly, to ask, to give a sign that he was still waiting for a reply. Instead, he had acted as if the whole world knew how he was feeling, like a selfish bastard. Assuming that the person he loved made a choice without telling him, decided to be with his shadow, even though…

_Even though he doesn't like your shadow._

The fake smile, that one he remembered the most. How Hyungwon tried to act as if he didn't hate his presence. As if he didn't hate that they couldn't talk about anything. Hyungwon hated that he didn't try to get physically close. He could've, but he didn't want to. It felt wrong. He felt wrong.

Now, it was too late. Now, when he stroked over the stone wall, gently, and listened to the low, muffled voice whispering a quiet 'I love you.'

_You ruined it._

He could've been with the person he loved, he would have continued the intimacy, built up the relationship on it and maybe, eventually, shown his face and become happy, but he ruined it. He ruined it because he acted on his stupid assumptions, assumptions that nobody loved him for who he is. Just like Hyungwon did.

Maybe they were both aliens, just that he was the stupid one.

_Doesn't make it less sad._

He could have slowly taken Hyungwon's hand and introduced him to the idea that he was who he was, that they knew each other from a long time ago, but that he fell in love with him only because of the intimacy they shared. Without the promise and without showing him his face and making him hate it.

The darkness was the only entity that made him feel like he belonged as he sat on his bed, wearing underwear only and swallowing as the door opened before closing again and the steps came closer. The right sounds of steps, the steps that he was missing all this time. Now he could imagine how Hyungwon carefully placed one foot in front of another as he walked towards him and it seemed as if the other man was holding something in his hands.

"There's something you need to know," he whispered, hands shaking as one curled around the blanket even though it gave him nothing to hold onto while the other stroked over the bed towards the desk that stood right next to it, finding the light switch of his table lamp.

_He said he can’t lie, so why are you? He said that he can’t with humans because they lie, so why do you keep lying to him? Deceiving him?_

Hyungwon’s silhouette moved one more step closer towards him before stopping, the white of his eyes reflected more light than the rest and he could tell that the other man was looking at him, observing him in the silence. “What if I know?” he whispered.

He shook his head, biting down on his bottom lip until it hurt. “I don’t think you would have come here now if you did. But I don't want to deceive you. You don't deserve it.”

“Tell me,” the low voice murmured in reply, “and I will prove you otherwise.”

“I’m really sorry,” he whispered, and his fingers clenched around the switch, before he exhaled roughly and pressed it, covering the room in a warm, dimmed light. He closed his eyes immediately, holding the air in his lungs and feeling unable to move, unable to look up and see the expression on the face of the person that he loved with every cell of his body. With every word that his mind could come up with, with every second that he was awake enough to think, Hoseok loved him.

He heard a gasp, followed by the dull sound of something falling to the floor. It was a brief interruption to the silence, only lasting several seconds before Hyungwon’s voice echoed off the walls. “Oh no,” the low voice muttered, and he felt liquid dread drip from his lungs towards the pit of his stomach, spreading there as one step followed another, most likely moving away from him.

Suddenly, there were fingers on his cheeks, brushing over them towards his arm and wrist before he heard the click of the light switch and the shadows behind his eyelids changed, covering both of them in darkness again.

“Didn’t you... say that you are sensitive to illumination?” Hyungwon whispered and he could feel the words against his cheek, that was how close the other man was. “Why would you hurt yourself like that, Hoseok?”

He couldn’t say anything. Suddenly every single word, every sentence he had thought he could say to explain himself disappeared and only the darkness was left. Darkness and the soft touch of those long fingers that he studied when Hyungwon was asleep. Those fingers that he wished to see wrapping around his wrist, pulling him closer, stroking over his shoulders, sinking into his hair. He stayed still, unable to move and scared that all of it would end up being a hallucination or a dream, but he never slept, so it must have been reality. He deceived the person he loved the most and that person tried to comfort him, thinking that he was having a hard time.

“I’m not. I’m not hurting myself,” he whispered, feeling how his eyes got wet, followed by goose bumps all over his body. “I’m hurting you and I hate it. But… but I'm also feeling so much at ease because you can’t imagine how different your voice sounds when you say my name now.” He inhaled, unable to keep the air in his lungs for long enough to suppress the tears that simply flew down his cheeks as he kept his eyes closed and hands curled around the blanket.

"Shh," Hyungwon muttered quietly and he felt the warm body on top of him, wrapping around him like a second blanket while humming an unfamiliar melody. There was something soothing to it and a single thumb brushed over his cheek once before he heard a simple gush of air, as if Hyungwon had blown on his fingers right after. "My grandma always says that tears will dry and turn into stardust and salt. Salt also looks like little crystals, doesn't it? It's pretty and so are you."

_Stardust._

“I'm not sure if I remember it right, but I just thought about you saying that you would turn into stardust if you don't find a human to be with, and first I thought it was a pretty thing to be, but then felt shocked, because my mother told me it’s the metaphor for somebody dying. I didn’t want you to die. So, I promised to stay.” He smiled to himself and how ridiculous it would have sounded to anybody else but Hyungwon. But the person in his arms was the only one who could understand the past that they shared. The child-like memories that somehow found their way into here and now.

"Dying?" Hyungwon asked and he felt how the round nose brushed over his jaw as the other man shook his head. "That's what aliens like me do when they end up alone. We turn into stardust and return to the stars. That's what happened to my mother."

_He lost his mother when he was still a baby._

“Did she also turn into stardust? Even if she went back to the stars, it is sad, isn't it?” he asked carefully, aware that he shouldn’t discuss this topic with Hyungwon. It was about belief, and what right did he have to question it?

"It makes me a little sad, because she didn't take me along. But that was because I still had grandma and she didn't have anybody, so she left where she won't be alone, so that's very nice. I had grandma at first, but once I'm older there must be somebody else. She always jokes about marrying me off, but I think she just doesn't want me to turn into stardust. But I won't." He heard a smile in the last sentence before a plump mouth suddenly pressed against his, ignoring the fact that he must have tasted like salt. "Because I have you."

“I don’t want you to turn into stardust either. I didn’t back then, and I don’t now, even though the reasons are different, and my feelings are too. How did you know that it was me? I don’t understand.” He wrapped his arms around Hyungwon’s waist and pulled him closer, kissing his own tears from the plump mouth.

"Your words made me understand!" Hyungwon exclaimed and licked over his cheek, chuckling before remarking on the salty taste. A few seconds and again there was a warm tongue on his skin, this time at the corner of his mouth. "Stardust is precious so we have to catch it all."

“My words? About packing my suitcase?” he asked, glancing into the corner where his suitcase lay open and ready to be packed. “I don't know if I would've been able to leave. I really love you so much.”

"I love you too!" Hyungwon sounded excited while saying the three most meaningful words and wiggled his arms in the air, up and down for a moment. "I'm sorry, I just got so happy because I never thought I was going to say it. I never said it without adding 'platonically' at the end before, but I definitely don't love you platonically."

_He loves you. You. The you that you are._

Lips pressed against his before they were replaced by a tongue and suddenly disappeared altogether. Hyungwon jumped to the floor and began furiously patting it with his palms, but he couldn't tell why.

"Found it!" the low voice exclaimed before something was placed into his hands, shape familiar and pleasant to the touch.

Soft fingertips travelled from the edges of the object in his hands over his wrists and upwards along his arms. He focused on the feeling, on the path that the other man's fingers took until they arrived at his cheek, carefully stroking over it.

"I am tired of this whole pretending and… I feel like only you will understand," Hyungwon whispered against his lips, fingers finally slipping into his hair.

_Your poem. You left your poems._

He wanted to shake his arms too, but wrapped them around Hyungwon instead, keeping him close, enveloping him, feeling so thankful that despite all that happened, despite all his mistakes, he still came to him.

“I’m tired too. I’m so tired of observing you every day and how much you dislike having me next to you.” He lifted his right hand and found the switch again, turning on the soft light to see the expression on the handsome face for once, to be sure that it was different now.

Hyungwon blinked a few times to get used to the light and pulled his bottom lip into his mouth. Those big eyes were still not meeting his, escaping his gaze by roaming his forehead, cheeks and lips. "I don't dislike _you_. Not you as a person, you are still one of the most important people in my life. The most important man in my life, but- I never had anybody live with me. I thought you only decided to be with me because I pretended to be human so nicely. There was no other reason for you to want to be with me, so… so I tried and put on clothes and thought of what humans like to eat and to do and combining all of that with work was just- so hard. It made me want to… be stardust earlier."

“But I didn’t want any of it, Hyungwon. I thought you didn’t want the person I am, who I really am, the one who doesn’t sleep and just writes poems in the darkness the whole day. But you didn’t reply, and you said that you want the person to fulfil the promise. I knew when I saw the swan, but you said- you said you wanted Hoseok. So, I tried to be Hoseok because I couldn’t handle waiting for your reply and thinking that I could never be close to you again. I’m sorry for not telling you, I am. I’m in love with you, with the low voice saying that you don't feel human, that you are an alien because you don't belong, not some kind of costume you’re wearing for the people outside.” He observed Hyungwon’s eyes, how they jumped from one of his features to the next, how those fingers squeezed his arm in a regular rhythm and how the firm thighs tightened around his middle when Hyungwon sat up on his lap.

"I… I didn't know what I wanted." Hyungwon kept switching his focus until he finally stopped at a spot below his jaw and stared at it as he talked. "I thought I wanted the boy with the promise, but then when I had him I just thought about the man behind the wall. I thought about the scent, about how everything made sense with the man behind the wall, but it never did with the boy who promised. I'm a hypocrite. A terrible hypocrite and those are the worst. My grandma hates them. I say one thing, but then don't act on it. Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite."

The lean body on top of him trembled as if Hyungwon responded to his own thoughts, flexing his muscles and squeezing his body more in between his thighs. "It was so hard to admit it, but when I did, I realised that I missed your letter and you must be gone, and I ruined everything again, but then I realised that Hoseok is you and that Hoseok said he'll pack his suitcase and if I don't do anything- fuck, kiss me, Hoseok."

There was no chance to reply as arms wrapped around his neck and he had a mouthful of Hyungwon's lips, pressed flush against his so firmly that he could barely breathe.

He hummed at first, struggling to get air before he finally managed and used some strength to turn them and be blessed with the opportunity to observe the closed eyes, the parted lips, how they opened when his own came close enough to feel his exhales. He didn't need the light, but seeing Hyungwon react to him, to the real him, made him feel euphoric.

"You're the only person who makes my thoughts float away like pouring rain. It feels so good," he muttered, before licking into the warm mouth and overwhelming himself with how much he had missed it.

Hyungwon only hummed in reply, unwilling to stop as he seemed to melt into the touch just the way he remembered it. The big palms aimlessly stroked over his back and arms and Hyungwon's hips kept lifting several centimetres off the bed to increase their points of contact. A few words drowned in their kiss, but that didn't seem to matter to the beautiful man intertwining his fingers with his hair and tugging each time their lips and tongues met.

_You don't have anyone but him. He's the only one._

The thought came suddenly, out of nowhere, but the fact didn't make it less true. They had kissed and touched each other before, in the darkness or with light, as people who shared intimacy, but without knowing what their partner looked like, or knowing exactly and ignoring the difficult past only to lose themselves in pleasure.

They had done it before, but nothing felt like knowing that they both made the decision to be with each other despite everything that had happened. That they loved each other and that it didn't matter that he would've been catching a few restless hours of sleep right now and that Hyungwon would have sat at his computer, training a neural network until his stomach started complaining so loudly that ignoring was impossible. Right now, they both met between light and dark, surrounded by the warmth of their intertwined bodies, cherishing it like it was the only place they belonged because it was the only place that felt like home.

***

Blurry colours rushed past him, cars transitioning into streets, into the sidewalk and finally into the shoes he was wearing. His feet carried him the usual path home from work, home after a day of discussing his ideas and making others understand why he was doing the things he did. It was one of those days where he couldn’t quite tell himself apart from a puddle in front of the apartment complex door. His shoes had a similar colour too, a muddy brown and if he stepped past the porch onto his fluffy carpet it was going to become just as muddy, stop being the fluffy carpet he knew. It was the worst feeling when things stopped being the way they were.

_But there is something to pull you out of the mud, something apart from your carpet._

He blinked, trying to focus on the key in his hand and his repeated attempts to get it into the keyhole of his apartment. Maybe he didn’t have to? Maybe there was a better solution?

_You’re not alone anymore._

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he stepped two steps back and then to the side, staring at a door that looked so similar to his but was able to make him feel much better. It was the door that his fingers had pushed a letter under, the door he leaned against and listened to the voice of the man behind the wall. Hoseok’s voice.

“H-Hoseok,” he whispered, unable to remember what he was supposed to do when he stood in front of a door and needed somebody to answer. His head felt heavy, so he leaned it against the wood. Then he tried again. “Hoseok?”

A few sounds came from the inside of the apartment before the surface of the door made room for a silhouette. It took a few seconds for him to lift his gaze and recognise the face that belonged to the person who was able to make him feel better.

"You came," the pleasant voice said before Hoseok gasped and reached for his wrist, wrapping his warm fingers around it. "You're soaked and so cold, what happened?"

_What happened?_

He couldn’t really tell anymore, so he simply said what he knew was true, all while reaching out and holding onto the familiar warmth in return, wrapping all his fingers around Hoseok’s forearm. He counted the fingers, there were still five. “Am I still here? Sometimes I cannot tell. I feel like a muddy puddle with my thoughts just adding drops. Drip, drop. Drip, drop. Like that.”

"Shh, it's okay, you're here, with me." Warm arms pulled him inside and curled around him, making him feel how hot the body of another person could be. Maybe it felt like that because he wasn't human, but it was like a flame that stroked his skin. "Let's take those soaked clothes off first," Hoseok added and he let his arms be lifted and waited until his clothes were gone and those arms wrapped around him again, feeling even hotter.

"Did you drink? Have you eaten? Or would you like me to hug you like this?" Burning lips whispered next to his ear as Hoseok moved him and made him lay down on a bed before placing a thick blanket on top of him.

_He’s so… nice._

He smiled before making his lips murmur a simple ‘hug’ and using all his available limbs to wrap around the body next to him. He counted them too, there were four and that was good. It seemed just the way it should be along with the warm body in his hold and the familiar voice that talked to him, made things make sense.

_Like the mud clearing away and leaving a puddle of clean water._

“Why do I feel like this?” he asked and rubbed his nose against Hoseok’s jaw. The man in his arms had always been able to make things understandable for him, so maybe he knew why being human was so difficult for him. “Why is it so tiring to be human the whole day?”

Hoseok hummed and stroked over his head, raking his fingers through his hair before he replied with his lips so close to his ear that he didn't hear anything apart from the low voice. It sounded clear, familiar and without disturbance or background noise.

"I can't look inside your head, but you must be exhausted. When I lived with you I observed how you tried to change the things you usually do too, probably thinking that I need you to. It's exhausting. There is usually an hour or two where I can't hear you in your apartment after you come back from work. I assume that you're lying on your carpet and trying to regain your energy." A warm kiss on his forehead interrupted Hoseok's voice before it continued again. "You feel and see and hear so many things and at the same time you have to put in a lot of effort into acting like people would expect you to. It must be so overwhelming that it feels like losing yourself on the way. But you're still you and I love you."

“I’m still me?” he asked quietly, already missing the way Hoseok’s voice was able to drown out everything else. “Sometimes I am not sure. I come home and then there are just noises, and everything is blurry. I tried to explain it in a letter before. I come home but then my alarm clock switches from one, eight, three, two to a number much higher, sometimes even two, two, three, eight.”

The sound of his own voice wasn’t as pleasant, so he shifted and tried to push his ear closer to Hoseok’s lips, listening to his inhales and exhales instead. They sounded calming too, like the sea.

"Is there something that helps you regain the strength that you use up during the day? When I feel like I'm not myself, I write. Then the thoughts come, and I remember that yes, it's still me. Just that nobody can see." A smile spread against his cheek and the warm mouth kissed a path along his ear.

“Can I see?” he asked next and tried to imagine Hoseok’s face as he let his fingers dance over the lines of it, along the delicate jaw and the pretty nose bridge. He remembered the lips too, their curve and how they felt against his. Somehow, he wanted them to go back there, make him think of nothing but them. “When I feel like this… sleep helps. Sleep and you.”

"You can see. Even in the darkness and even through the wall. You're special like that." Another smile was traceable before those lips touched his own, carefully at first, but so warm and comforting.

“You are special too, you make everything else-” He gasped and parted his lips to feel more, already loving how the blurriness made way for Hoseok. Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok. “I don’t remember what I wanted to say anymore but kiss me.”

There were many sensations at once, but somehow, they integrated into one perfect combination. The arm that wrapped around his waist, how it tugged at it to pull him closer, how those lips parted, and he felt a hot tongue licking into his mouth. An inhale that turned into a hiss and more lips, more skin, a muscular thigh between his own.

He moaned, vision turning white for a brief moment as his thoughts scrambled and he couldn’t form a single coherent sentence. He babbled something but wasn’t quite sure what it was as his head was thrown back and he used his fingers to hold onto Hoseok’s back, feel how firm it was and how the broad body could squish him as soon as it lay down on top of him with its whole weight.

“Squish me,” he mumbled and licked over Hoseok’s nose, then his mouth and finally bit along his jaw. He wanted to be quiet, to have no words left and drown in nothing but Hoseok’s low voice, so loud that even the pipes couldn’t reach him. “Put something in my mouth.”

Instead of giving him everything, Hoseok only turned them and lowered his body on top of him, a bit too careful for his taste, before leaning in and nibbling on his neck until he could hear the exhales so loud that it was almost deafening. "Something? Should I kiss you again, or do you want more?" the low voice asked.

_Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok._

He tried to think about the questions, but there wasn’t enough coherence to figure them out. Already before he had failed to answer Hoseok’s questions and therefore ended up ruining their encounters even though he had wanted to be close. There was something about questions that overwhelmed him, especially if he wanted nothing more but to feel.

“I want you in my mouth,” he tried again because it combined the two things he wanted the most, Hoseok and to have something in his mouth. That way he solved the problem, answered the question and hopefully enabled himself to feel more. “And more.”

Hoseok hummed, but he still didn't have anything in his mouth. There was only the sensation of the muscular body on top of him, the hot lips that placed kisses on his neck, travelling lower and sucking on his nipples right when a soft palm brushed over his length and down his thigh. "Let me turn on the small lamp. I want to make sure that I don't do anything you don't want. And see your face," Hoseok murmured before covering the room in a warm light, throwing shadows on their bodies and showing that he was naked while Hoseok was still completely dressed.

He whimpered, mostly because he felt sensitive and the light touch made him aware of the way his body had reacted. There was a hint of wetness against his thigh, but Hoseok was far from putting anything inside his mouth. His hands had to turn on and work, so he bit down on his bottom lip to get at least his motoric functions under control and scrambled towards the pants the other man was wearing to take them off. It was more difficult than he remembered pants being because he just wanted to lose himself already, but everything took so long.

“Mm-mhh,” he complained instead of saying anything coherent and tugged at the waistband again, brushing his fingers over something metallic and finally remembering about zippers. Zippers sucked. “Off.”

A gorgeous chuckle was his reply and he must've done something good for the other man to make such a nice sound. "I'm going to undress. I don't think I can resist after being able to look at you."

Some shifting, clothes that landed on the wooden floor and then finally the distinct warmth of Hoseok's muscular body settling on top of him, making him want to have and feel everything.

"Do you still want me in your mouth?"

He nodded furiously and reached out to feel more of the warm skin under his fingertips. It made his whole body tingle along with the memory of Hoseok’s chuckle. It sounded so beautiful, so he wiggled a little, this time with his hips because his hands were both busy touching.

"Okay, then I'll just… crawl up." The weight lifted and when he opened his eyes to see what was happening, he took in how his chest was surrounded by muscular thighs, spread, hips moving forward and revealing Hoseok's thick length, only a few centimetres away from his lips.

He licked his lips, for a moment thinking absolutely nothing as he lifted his head just enough to close his mouth around the warm tip and suck once. That was about the time he remembered that Hoseok had told him before not to do that because it was too much. “Oh- I’m sorry,” he muttered as he let go and quickly licked over it with his tongue a few times to make it feel better. “I couldn’t resist. I really like the feeling of something in my mouth. Can you just put it there the way you like it? What was it? Right- fuck my mouth.”

"I'm a bit conflicted because I don't know if you really want it. You were feeling so bad when you came. That's why I- god it feels amazing, but I don't want to use your willingness if you're not really aware." Hoseok moaned when he dug his tongue into the slit and held onto the headrest, eyes rolling back.

_He thinks you don’t want it?_

He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and tried to count all the way up to twenty and back, making sure it didn’t take too long because counting was usually quick inside his head. “I want it a lot and when I am able to think about nothing but you it makes me feel much better so that is exactly what I want you to do right now and afterwards you can ask me a lot of questions but right now I really can’t answer them.” He inhaled, realizing that his air ran out. “Can I have you dick now?”

"Mhm." Hoseok nodded, curling his hand around the shaft and slowly pushing the tip between his lips with a breathy moan that intensified when his hips moved further. He hummed, hoping that it was affirmative enough for Hoseok to know that was exactly what he wanted. His arms wrapped around the other man’s hips, travelling all the way to the bubbly butt and he squeezed Hoseok’s butt cheeks, pulling him closer like for a hug. His tongue drew circles while he let the sensation of having something between his lips fade out everything else. There was nothing but Hoseok on his mind now, nothing but Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok. Repeating whenever the man above him moved his hips and pulled a moan and a hum from his lips, which in return resulted in the low voice surrounding him like a cocoon.

The moans got louder, soaked in pleasure and the motions seemed to stutter before the thick length twitched multiple times, making him swallow and listen to how good his name sounded coming from those lips.

He sucked a little, this time to get everything that didn’t automatically end up in his throat. His hands were working too, kneading the firm butt and because he saw it in a video before, he took as much of the length as he was able to before swallowing and sucking as much as he could, hoping to hear more of those pretty sounds.

"Oh fuck," the other man groaned, eyes rolling back and one hand landing right next to his face. "You- You feel so good. So so good. I'm going to make you feel amazing. Would you like me to do what I did last time? Or I can take you in my mouth, you can try out the same that I did just now if you would like to. Or something else." Hoseok was babbling, licking over his lips and crawling back until he lay on top of him again. "My whole body is tingling."

He grinned, feeling happy that even though Hoseok had been the one to drown out his thoughts and make him return to being himself, the other man was breathless and thankful for how good it felt. It must have been a win-win and he was going to remember it somewhere, attach a number to it maybe.

“Tingling is good, I love it when you make me feel that way. Will you make me tingle too? I liked what you did before, or fingers, or anything really as long as you put it inside me.”

It felt so nice not to think about what he had to say and just say what he thought, whatever arrangement of words his thoughts came up with. He hadn’t even bothered thinking whether humans said something like that or what a human should have done. It just felt so- calming, like he was himself instead of a poor excuse of a human.

_And he said he likes it. He likes you, just like this._

Again, he giggled, this time while shaking his arms because he simply couldn’t help it. He felt so good except for firmness between his legs that throbbed a little.

"I missed listening to how you sound when you don't think of anything at all," Hoseok whispered, crawling between his legs and making him lift them, tongue licking paths from his thighs, down his balls and finally where he felt most sensitive. "I'm going to make you feel really good. I think you might like it."

A click sounded while Hoseok teased his slit with the tip of his tongue, making it impossible to check what was going on apart from the intense sensation. He must've moaned and just when he did, Hoseok pushed a finger inside his body, curling it and making him curl his spine in return.

His vision blurred before sharpening and only pulling separate colours into focus, nothing else while his body burned and remained on a high, unable to settle on anything but the sensations that rained down on him. His lips might have formed words, but he wasn’t too sure what they were, whether they were coherent or if it was maybe his own language, something he was only capable of whenever he was really himself, nothing but his body and scrambled mind.

“Hoseok,” he mumbled at some point when it felt like his hands had found a part that belonged to the other man, tugging at what might have been hair. It felt good, so good that he tried to express it, muttering words that mixed with the name of the man he liked so much.

The low voice hummed in response when those lips tightened around his tip. Hoseok's delicate fingers, the merciless stimulation made him feel like a firework and made him move his hips to feel even more, faster.

His left hand must have slipped, finding a patch of warm skin that it attempted to bury into as his throat began to feel hoarse, telling him that he must have been talking but he couldn’t even hear it. There was nothing but sparks of white that covered his vision whenever Hoseok moved his fingers just right, reaching something that forced his whole body to convulse and his mind to let go of words, abandoning everything apart from pleasure and the desire to be close, oh so close. “Please,” he yelled at one point, but the word didn’t even sound like the plea it was supposed to be, rather like a moan without a meaning, a scream for something that was so close, right there at his fingertips until it suddenly hit him, turning his whole body into jelly and pulling a last yell from his lips.

The first thing he could feel was the oversensitivity that Hoseok inflicted on him by sucking on his tip one last time. Then there was the cool air that must've felt cold because of the thin layer of sweat that covered his body. It started to get a bit uncomfortable and just before all the noise could enter his consciousness, Hoseok's arms wrapped around him, pulled him into a tight embrace, made him inhale the scent of cherry and listen to the quick breaths that hit the shell of his ear.

The single sound was so welcome that he wrapped his whole body around the source of it as well as he could, mumbling the other man’s name repeatedly to give it some structure, to give it a pattern that he enjoyed, a pattern with the sound of quick breaths and maybe even a low hum.

“I love you,” he whispered and rubbed his nose against whatever he could find first, humming again. “You make me feel so good and then safe. Better than the fluffy blanket. That is why I came to you. Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok.”

"Then stay,” Hoseok whispered, pulling him flush against his warm chest, letting him listen to the regular heartbeat, taking his thoughts and replacing them with a repetitive sound until there was nothing at all.

_

Sensations dripped into his consciousness like honey into a cup of tea. He hummed because it was a pleasant feeling this time, a buzzing in his head that got louder and louder, but without hurting his ears. Something soft, probably a blanket, was wrapped around him and even though the scents weren’t those of home, he still felt at ease and happy.

_Cherry. It smells like cherry._

He giggled and wrapped the thick blanket tighter around himself, wondering about where Hoseok might be and if he was feeling just as happy after a nap as he did. There was something about sleep that seemed to put everything back into order, like tiny fingers that placed each thought into the drawer it belonged.

Wiggling his toes, he opened his eyes and watched them appear from under the blanket, chuckling again to himself. He had been just about to call out for Hoseok when words caught his attention, words that didn’t stem from the man he expected.

“You didn’t reply, so I came,” a high voice said quietly, but he could hear every word so clearly as if it was spoken right next to his ear. “Can I come inside?”

_Is that his grandma?_

He rolled out of bed, making a relatively loud noise but the woman talking didn’t seem to care while he tried to free himself from the thick layers of blanket. Hoseok had remembered what he liked the most and cocooned him before leaving to take a shower.

_How long ago was that even? How long did you sleep?_

“No,” Hoseok’s familiar voice replied. “I don’t think there is anything we need to talk about. You told me to leave, I left. The story has an ending already, Clara. There is nothing more to add.”

_The story has an ending?_

He didn’t know what story Hoseok was talking about, but Clara couldn’t have been his grandma. There was something about the name that was familiar, but he still didn’t know what. Not even when he closed his eyes and curled his fingers one after the other.

“That’s not true. My feelings are still the same, Hoseok. They are. How could you just stop loving if you said that you would do that forever. You promised, and now you are saying that you don’t feel anything when you look at me? Was it that easy for you?”

_He promised._

His eyes widened as his memories produced a white card with silver writing on top of it, two names. Hoseok and Clara.

_It’s the woman he wanted to marry._

“No. It wasn’t easy at all, but now my chest is occupied, and my thoughts are with someone else. If your feelings are still the same as before, they have not been enough in the first place, you know? But maybe, and surely, I wasn’t enough either. I walked away because you told me to and never tried to solve it. It’s better that way. It’s better that way for me.”

He dared the first step towards the door, feeling like it was a conversation that humans didn’t like to have. Those were always better interrupted before they developed into something terrible. His grandma has always told him when the best moment to walk in on a conversation was, so he waited for it while rubbing his fingers over the edge of the wall that led to the hallway.

“But what about me? It has only been a few weeks. It seems so easy for you. To just move to a rundown apartment and find some flirt to be busy with until you realize that it can’t last anyway. Just like you did before. Did you regress like that without me?”

“I think you should leave. There is nothing much I can tell you and to be honest, I don’t want to tell you anything either. My words belong to somebody else now. Please leave, Clara. You gifted me many nice memories, but now it appears as if they are being overwritten by your words. Would be a pity if only those would stay.”

_This must be your cue._

Hoseok had told her to leave and had pointed out reasons why he wanted her to. Now the likelihood of her leaving was low, because usually humans didn’t leave if one asked them to. Whenever he asked humans to leave him alone in school they also never did it, so there was some consistency to that observation. Therefore, he needed to help and make sure Hoseok achieved his goal. There were some tricks to making people leave even if they didn’t want to. Making them uncomfortable was one of them. Usually, he would have dressed to seem more human, but right now it was rather beneficial for his goal. Grabbing the wall with both hands this time, he peeked past it, showing himself up to the end of his ribs and examining the scene in front of him.

“Am I the flirt you talked about?” he asked, because it was the only question that seemed at least remotely related to him. He must have been the flirt, right?

The woman's eyes widened, and she stared at his chest, slowly travelling up his neck until those eyes got even bigger. It looked dangerous.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, isn't that… Isn't that the person who ruined everything?"

Hoseok turned, reaching for his shoulder and holding onto it lightly. "I have no grudges left concerning that, we've talked it out, so it doesn't matter to me anymore. He's not a flirt. He's a person I'm in love with. My partner, my boyfriend, however you would call it."

_Nobody ever called you that before. It’s nice._

He smiled because Hoseok called him a person, even if the woman in front of the door still made his fingers hold onto the wall tighter and his lips tremble just a little.

"I knew it. I knew there was something to it. I knew you would betray me with someone like that."

"Someone like that? Please leave now. I don't want to listen to your baseless accusations. We aren't in a relationship, and I don't owe you any explanation. Let's say you helped me to get where I am now, so thank you for that. Take care Clara."

The look on the woman's face resembled something negative, as if she was judging him, or Hoseok, or both. When he turned to check Hoseok's face, the other man leaned closer and kissed him before throwing the door shut. "I'm sorry that you were woken up by this," the low voice vibrated against his lips.

He hummed because there was no chance to say anything else, not with lips so close to his own because that meant they were supposed to kiss. His arms wrapped around Hoseok’s neck and he focused on how the closeness made him feel better, got rid of some of the heaviness in the pit of his stomach that he didn’t quite understand.

“She is right,” he murmured eventually, realizing why that feeling had appeared so suddenly. “I ruined everything. You said so before.”

"I have a question. It's a hypothetical question. Let's say I went for a run and Clara comes to your apartment and tells you that I am hers because I promised. Would you just say 'okay' and give up on being with me? Give up on the letters we wrote to each other, the kisses we shared, the touches, words and the pleasure?"

He paused the kiss, lips unmoving as he tried to imagine, as he thought about standing there on his fluffy carpet with the woman in front of his door telling him that Hoseok had promised to marry her. It was true, he didn’t need to imagine. Hoseok had indeed promised to marry her, but he had promised to him first, only that humans considered childhood promises nonbinding. He had learned that now.

“You promised to me first, so I couldn’t give up on that, but at the same time even when I thought you and Hoseok, or Hoseok and the man behind the wall are two different people, I somehow ended up liking the man behind the wall because he likes me like this. Naked and messy and- yeah. I don’t think I could accept it. I would cry, but still want you and hold your hand. Maybe you could pack me inside your luggage then.” He sniffed because thinking of Hoseok packing his luggage made him want to cry. It always did.

"I don't want to leave you. I want to be close to you. Somewhere where you feel like home." Soft lips kissed his and Hoseok wrapped his muscular arms around him, easily making their bodies touch and his nakedness seem less inadequate and more like it was okay this way. "I asked because I think that there are many reasons as to why my life turned out the way it did. Why I left and why I met you. She told me to leave so I left. She thought… she still thinks that I'm unable to be in a relationship because I'm attracted to the same and opposite gender at the same time. That I'm greedy and unfaithful."

“Huh?” he muttered, a little confused by the comment and unable to think while having Hoseok’s lips in front of his. He placed his palms on the broad shoulders and pushed a little, making sure Hoseok was just the right distance away to stare at his nose instead of his lips. “Sorry, when you are that close I cannot think about anything but kissing you. I… am trying to understand, but I am not sure I do. You seem sad, but you also said that you changed your mind and like me now, so why are you still sad? Why does she think liking people of all genders means you are greedy? I also like apples and pears, does that make me greedy?”

"I don't think so. I personally think it's because she's insecure. She doesn't believe that she's enough, so I'll find someone else. Maybe she thinks she can't give me something that for example you can, but it's narrow thinking." Hoseok still looked sad, but he smiled, reaching for his face and stroking over his jaw and lips. "But to be honest, I was jealous too. Of myself. When you said you had your first kiss, I almost died sitting here and wishing that I could be the one to kiss you. When I realized that it was you all along, I wondered if there is someone else you're close with. Somebody who can make you feel the way I do. I think it's because you're the only person who makes me feel that way and I'm scared to not be enough like I wasn't enough for her."

He used his right palm to stroke over Hoseok’s hair, hoping that it provided some of the comfort that it always did for him when somebody did that. Most of the time other people weren’t around, so he ended up doing it himself. He was proud of the way his fingers felt against his skull when he did it, so hopefully Hoseok enjoyed it just as much if not more.

_Not enough, not enough, not enough._

“So, it is a fear of not being enough, right? She had it, so she expected you to go to somebody else, a man because you also like men and that is something she cannot provide. And you… you fear that you won’t be enough for me, because people told you mean things before. I think I know that feeling, that feeling of not being enough because your memories and experiences tell you that you are not. I was very convinced that a human would never want to be with me, I told you before. You were the first person who liked my shorts and wanted to be with me, so I held onto what you said. Nobody else said anything similar afterwards. I- I was bad at pretending. Now I can do it, but it is so tiring that I cannot do it long enough for a human to like me. So- so I also feel like I am not enough, not human enough.”

"I know that you feel like an alien, but I find myself thinking that you're so much more human than any other person I know." The round eyes fluttered shut and Hoseok smiled, even though he couldn't see what he was smiling at. "A feeling that one isn't enough is persistent and it comes back, even after you thought you got rid of it, but in the end it does nothing but make you miserable. I think that's the most frequent thought I have when I don't sleep. It always starts with the knowledge that I should sleep but I can't and ends with comparisons. Why can other people fall asleep so easily and you're feeling like it would be better you wouldn't be awake at all? It's exhausting."

“You know,” he started even before knowing what he wanted to say, but the pause got a little uncomfortable, so he made sure to fill it. His eyes blinked two or three times as Hoseok met his gaze, waiting for him to continue. “My grandma said that if somebody cannot sleep then there is treatment for it, only that most humans do not go to treatment because they think it means they are weak. But you are not weak, you are strong, so you can also be strong and go to treatment if not sleeping makes you miserable. I think problems are like little things that swirl around in your brain and you must capture them in your fist and let them leave. If you struggle to do it, then somebody else should do it.” He grinned and closed his fingers around a patch of air close to Hoseok’s temple. “Bam, like this.”

_What if he thinks you don’t like him this way?_

His smile faded, and he hugged Hoseok as tightly as he could, hoping that he wasn’t going to misunderstand. “I like you even if you cannot sleep, I like you in every possible way, so if sleeping is what you want, then maybe we can work on that. Grandma always said one only needs to want things enough, then there will be a way, even if we need help to achieve it. I- I need help with everything, so there is that.”

"Maybe my mind can't come up with a way to help myself because it's been like this for so long that I don't hope for it to get better and am scared that not sleeping became a part of myself. A part that I can't change without changing my personality. But I… I would really love to fall asleep with you, Hyungwon. Hyungwon, Hyungwon, Hyungwon."

He smiled, grabbing the round face with both palms and pulling it towards himself.

“Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok,” he replied against the curved mouth before covering it with his own, turning his mind and thoughts into nothing but those three words.

Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok.

***

It would have been amazing to know a way to simply change in a day. To assimilate to any circumstances like he accommodated to the smell of the old furniture. The same way he knew which part of his bed screeched and accepted the sound as something inevitable. Some things were easy, but unfortunately others weren't easy at all.

It wasn’t easy to get used to the fact that Hyungwon heard everything he was doing. When he couldn’t write and tapped the pen against his desk, before letting it fall on it. It was hard to explain when he couldn’t sleep a single second, shifting in his bed and sighing because his mind decided to think about what was, about the little things that made his life hard sometimes. Next day, Hyungwon asked and he had to explain. Although the accepting words still echoed in his memory, saying that it was okay that he didn’t sleep, the reality was different. There was worry, curiosity, and all that was okay, just that he was so exhausted. Too exhausted to explain anything.

_But he wants to know, and he said you help him understand._

It was hard to persuade Hyungwon of certain things too. For example, that shopping was an actual skill one needed to possess to survive and after watching how his grandma took care of everything, he tried to talk about it. Help was nice, but not if it led to complete lack of competence and a dependency he wasn’t sure Hyungwon was aware of. His boyfriend thought differently and tried to make excuses why he couldn’t do it and why his grandma should continue doing it.

_You can’t be the only one changing, can you?_

Of course, his mind came up with excuses at first, that it was okay to dislike certain things and want change from another person, but in the end, compliance wasn’t love.

_A fragile embrace_

_The comfort of a kiss_

_And the pain_

_That makes you change_

_For the better._

_Love._

The decision to change lay in the person who changed, but he felt that he needed to meddle with the way Hyungwon lived. His routine and his need for stability. Maybe he would ruin it all. Lose the trust he had fought for so desperately and give the person he loved the feeling that he was lacking. More lacking than he thought he was, more alien than he already felt, and maybe even more lonely.

_And still you decided to talk about it._

Hyungwon was taking a nap. He knew because the other man had snuggled into his blanket and he could hear the cute exhales when he pressed his ear against the wall. The lack of consciousness was a good sign. It meant that he had some space to get rid of the tension that bothered him for a few days. Despite all the thoughts that occupied his mind, the continuous overthinking and anxiety from the decisions he had made, Hyungwon was incredibly attractive and it was hard to be around without getting aroused. Maybe, if he got rid of some tension, he would be able to fall asleep for an hour or two.

It was worth a try, so he crawled on top of his bed and stroked from his knee to his thigh, using his fingers to play with the skin, nails drawing thin lines towards his hip bone and easily pulling the warmth towards his middle. He only needed to think about some of the things Hyungwon did without being aware how arousing and intriguing it was. Like lying naked on his bed with one leg angled and explaining something about artificial intelligence. He couldn’t remember a single word, but he could remember oh so well how the golden skin reflected the rays of sunlight peeking through the blinds. How Hyungwon smiled when he was excited, long fingers stroking over his own stomach absentmindedly and how he swallowed, catching himself thinking that the man in front of him couldn’t be human, not while looking like a deity and pulling the most arousing thoughts out of his mind on the spot, even though there was nothing about those words. Only the motions, the visual, the low voice. Gorgeous.

He exhaled roughly, careful to not make too much noise and wrapped his fingers around his hard length. It was so easy to be aroused just thinking about Hyungwon, so he continued where he left off, stroking himself slowly, alternating the pressure and spreading his thighs further.

Suddenly, he heard the familiar click of the door as the lock gave in and opened into his one-room apartment. The hot air that had only been filled with his exhales was now occupied by quick steps that hurried towards him and he wasn't even able to remove his hand from his length as there was already a round face at the edge of his bed.

Hyungwon was naked, as usual, apart from a thin blanket around his shoulders and what looked like a bottle of something in his hand.

"I think…" the other man muttered as if it was typical to simply interrupt another person masturbating, "that should be inside me."

A long finger lifted into the air and pointed at his groin as silence spread between them. He knew that Hyungwon wasn't joking, the slim man kneeling at the edge of his bed was never joking about things like these. The thin blanket wasn't held by Hyungwon's fingers which were too busy with pointing at his groin, so it slipped down the broad shoulders, leaving the gorgeous man fully undressed.

"You were literally sleeping three seconds ago… how?" he muttered, unable to breathe properly from the adrenaline of Hyungwon walking in on him and arousal from his thoughts, the motions of his fingers and the reality of undressed Hyungwon that was not helping at all.

"I like listening to you breathe that way, so I woke up." He saw the contours of Hyungwon's smile as he impersonated his ragged breathing and attempted to hold the air in his lungs for a few seconds. "It's sexy. It's also a little mean because you didn't involve me. You know I like pleasure. Lots. I can give it to you."

"But I just- I just wanted to get rid of some pressure. You're not here for that. I had the feeling I needed to calm down a bit to think clearly. I'm sorry for breathing loudly. I will do it on the couch next time." He reached for the blanket and threw it over his erection, covering it to at least be able to keep some basic conversation without having his dick out. "I almost thought you jumped out of my imagination right now. It was a bit scary."

"Can't I jump back into it?" Hyungwon asked and instead of accepting his attempts to damage control, the naked man climbed on top of the bed and sat down on his blanket-covered erection. The bottle from before was suddenly waved in front of his face before the lid opened with a loud click and Hyungwon poured some liquid on his palm. "I brought this!"

_Oh god._

"You brought… lube?" He blinked a few times to be sure that he didn't have a sudden hallucination from lack of sleep and lifted an eyebrow. "And for what purpose did you bring Iube to my apartment, Mister?"

"Huh?" Hyungwon's eyes widened before he simply rolled his hips on top of him and pulled a gasp from his lips. "I told you. Because you should be inside me."

_Inside him?_

"When did you decide that? In the two seconds you needed to walk from your door to mine? You're testing me in all kinds of ways, Hyungwon. You can't just come here naked with lube in your hands, sit on me and say that you want me inside you. Out of nowhere. I'm going to combust." He lifted both hands to his face and pressed his fingers against his eyelids, exhaling sharply and hoping for the arousal to fade, but it was impossible under the given circumstances.

"I hope that by combust you don't mean cum, because that would be too early." Hyungwon squeezed his wrists before stroking down his arms and slipping under the blanket, continuing the caress on his naked thighs. "I know you're concerned that I didn't think about it, but I did. I thought about it under the shower before my nap and now I have the opportunity because you're all ready and making pretty sounds."

"And what was your plan? You're going to take the lube and sit on me?" he chuckled, with his eyes still closed, but Hyungwon's skin, his warm fingertips didn't let him form a single thought.

The chuckle that followed wasn't quite what he expected, especially considering the way Hyungwon usually made decisions about things he wasn't quite familiar with. He knew that the man on top of him hadn't been with anybody but him before, so his view on things tended to be simplified or naive, but the low chuckle and lube covered fingers that slowly curled around the base of his length defied what he knew.

"Might still need a little more preparation, but I'm sure you know exactly how to do that. If not, I can do it too and you'll watch," Hyungwon murmured while leaning in and sucking his earlobe into his plump mouth. "You even taste like a cherry."

"You really want this? I want you to look at me properly and tell me that you really want to have sex with me right now. I haven't slept for two days, so I can barely rely on my judgment. I need you to help me understand that you want it. That you're aware." His eyes rolled back, and he barely managed to prevent himself from moving his hips as he fisted the blanket and hissed instead.

He felt Hyungwon smile around the earlobe in his mouth, but he received mercy and those long fingers stopped dancing over his erection. "You want me to make you understand that I want it? I learned that one needs to put oneself into the same situation. You want me, right? That's why you're touching yourself and staring at my body a lot. So… isn't it normal that I want you too? It's just that-"

Hyungwon sighed and crawled a little closer, brushing his own rather prominent erection against his stomach as arms wrapped around his neck. "There are a few ways to initiate sex, but none of them happened. You didn't do any of the things I know. You didn't have a wet dream, you didn't make innuendos. Or I didn't get them. I don't know how to just start having sex, but now you are hard, so it should work, right?"

"I'm hard because I thought of you. I remembered you lying on the bed naked and beautiful and telling me about AI. Sex is about intimacy too, Hyungwon. Not just about being hard. I can get hard in three seconds if I lead my mind in the right direction, but this is so much more. It's trust and letting go, and responsibility and pleasure. It's so many things and it's your first time too. I want it to be amazing for you and not some impulsive dick sitting with me being sleep deprived and not having enough balls to say no," he whispered and wrapped his hands around Hyungwon's cheeks. Again, he couldn't catch the gaze, but he had given up for some time already. Hyungwon didn't want to look him in the eyes, it was mostly his eyebrow, or sometimes his eyelashes and thinking about it, it didn't really matter. It mattered that he had the feeling that the person in his arms understood what he meant. "I love you and I don't want to do whatever only because you are willing. That's why I need to know that you really, really want this. I do. I always do. You must really be an alien because I've never seen a human this gorgeous and stunning in my life."

"I do," Hyungwon whispered, but it was quiet, so quiet that he felt the air on his cheek rather than he heard the low voice. "I do, but you make it sound so scary, like it is something you don't feel ready for right now. I'm sorry if you are exhausted. I can also help you get the edge off and hug you until you feel better. I can hum the melody that was always hummed for me."

Those big hands became restless, tugging at the blanket and a little bit on his hair the way Hyungwon did when he felt nervous. His explanation must've given off the feeling that he didn't want to be close right now.

"I'm over analysing. The first time you asked me, you haven't been aware at all, so I'm careful. In general, it's not that I'm not ready. I'm just afraid to hurt you and risk your feelings and your trust. I want you. I want you so much that I can't think straight myself." He leaned in and kissed Hyungwon's lips, humming into the touch and feeling his body burn like a torch.

In retrospect, maybe he shouldn't have as Hyungwon deepened the kiss as soon as their mouths met. The lean arms tightened their grip and he felt more of Hyungwon's groin against his stomach, more gasps as the beautiful man instantly responded and seemed to forget himself and even more arousal as blunt nails scratched over his back to have more of him.

"Have me," Hyungwon gasped, quietly at first when their lips separated before repeating it louder and louder, words transforming into moans with each repetition.

"I want you. I want to have all of you," he moaned in reply and let his hands feel the warm skin, travelling lower and teasing the spots he knew were sensitive. After patting around the bed, he found the lube and poured some over his fingers, warming it up. It was hard to breathe because the plump mouth took his air, but he wasn't mad about it. He wanted to breathe Hyungwon. Hyungwon and nothing else. "I- I will prepare you for me, okay?"

Hyungwon only nodded furiously while kissing every part of him that those lips could reach. First it was his lips, then his jaw when he turned, next was his shoulders and as soon as he was about to lower his lube-covered hand, Hyungwon already licked his wrist. Only when he let his eyes travel over the slim body in front of him, all the way down to Hyungwon's narrow hips, the beautiful man lifted just enough without leaving his lap and tried to spread his legs.

"Like this?" the low voice murmured before Hyungwon tried to lift one of his legs and throw it on top of his shoulder, still not leaving his lap. He wasn't very successful and giggled. "Or like that once I manage? I can also bend in half."

“I want you to stop thinking about the things you’ve seen in porn and just try to feel what I’m going to do with every cell of your body. Listen to how I say your name, how my skin feels against your chest...,” he started quietly, interrupting the sentence with kisses against Hyungwon’s neck as he pulled the man flush against his chest with his free hand before slowly turning them until they lay on the side, facing each other. “How I look at your face, how my hand travels over the line of your hips, caresses your hip bone. I want you to feel how aroused I am because of you. Because you are attractive, beautiful and the person I love.” Letting out a quiet moan as he sucked Hyungwon’s earlobe into his mouth, he angled his wrist and carefully applied the lube in gentle circles.

He could feel how the other man trembled in response, reacting to the lightest of touches with ragged breaths and wide eyes that seemed to repeatedly return to his face without quite meeting his gaze. "Hoseok, I feel so much- so much already, but the way you speak makes everything seem like it's burning its path into my senses."

“I sometimes feel as if, despite you saying that you can’t comprehend words well, I can reach you with mine so well. I want you to feel it. Use your superior senses to get all of me.” He paid a lot of attention to how his hand moved, but his lips wanted to taste, to feel the warm skin against his tongue, so he licked over Hyungwon’s neck and used his teeth to bite into the crook as his finger slipped inside the hot body. “You feel so hot,” he whispered, enjoying how Hyungwon’s thigh lay on his hip as the other man shifted to feel more.

"Mmh," was the soft reply, but he couldn't be sure whether Hyungwon registered his words. The other man's fingers turned restless and started roaming his naked chest, cupping his pecs, brushing over a nipple or scratching along his sides. Breathy gasps told him that Hyungwon enjoyed what he was doing, hips constantly attempting to push against his motions and toes curling whenever he curled his finger.

Their intimacy only fuelled the arousal that burned between his legs when he slipped another finger inside Hyungwon’s body, occasionally getting some friction from the motions that made it seem as if Hyungwon was desperate for more. More of him.

“I guess it will feel softer, not as rough, but so much fuller. I thought about you so often. How it would feel to be inside you, how much I wanted it and how I thought I would never get to know the feeling because we wouldn’t be together. But we are, I love you, and I want you. Now.”

"Me too," Hyungwon whispered hurriedly and wrapped his arms around his neck to clash their lips together. He still felt whispers against his lips as the beautiful man let his eyes fall shut and moaned loudly, fingers tugging roughly at his hair. "Me too, me too, me too. Please. I thought about it so much, but I don't know how, how to tell you that I want you and that I want you all the time. Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok."

“I believe you. I want you to feel so good that you can’t think about anything else. Only me and you,” he whispered, fingers leaving Hyungwon’s body that was relaxed enough for what was about to come.

He jumped from the bed and quickly took a condom out of the bottom drawer in his desk, shaking his head because he didn’t expect himself to use it any time soon. When he returned, the sight took his breath away. How Hyungwon lay on his back on the dark blue sheets, golden skin shimmering in the rays of sunlight that entered his apartment through the blinds, how he lifted his arms and spread his legs, waiting for him to come back. He hissed at the slim chest rising and falling quickly with every breath, at the arousal that was visible and made him feel so hot and nervous at the same time. He wanted it to be perfect, but it was no poem. He couldn’t simply rewrite it if he made a mistake.

“I’ll always take you with me in my suitcase, and you have to take me to your planet if you ever want to leave,” he murmured, crawling on top of the bed and kneeling between Hyungwon’s legs, carefully lifting them on top of his thighs and rolling the condom over his full erection.

A smile was on Hyungwon's lips, visible because of the single ray of sunlight that touched one corner of his mouth and part of his round cheek. "If… if I ever have to turn into stardust, I'll make sure to take you with me. I'll teach you what it means not to be human."

“You do teach me. Every day. But the only thing I see is that you are amazing and that you could do so much more.” Chuckling, he leaned in and kissed Hyungwon’s mouth corner, before he applied enough lube, taking his time and glancing at the handsome face occasionally

"I always thought that humans don't talk when they have sex, that they touch a lot and scream, but you talk a lot. I like it because it's not scary at all. It just makes me want to rip your clothes off, but they are already off. Does that make sense?"

“I think talking is essential because humans can’t read thoughts. And you can’t read them either, so we need to talk to understand each other. That’s why I’m saying forget everything that you’ve seen in porn and look at my face, look at it and see what I feel when I get close to you like this. When I become one with you,” he muttered, lifting Hyungwon’s hips with one hand and brushing his lubed tip over the other man’s entrance, slowly increasing the pressure. His lips parted, and he exhaled roughly because of the firework-like sparks that danced in his vision and burned on his skin, making him want to burn even more when he looked at the beautiful face below him.

Hyungwon's lips were parted for a moan, but there was no sound, only widened eyes and air that appeared to be stuck in the slim chest for several seconds before being released all at once.

"Oh my god," Hyungwon panted and stroked over his arms. Once, twice, a third time before grabbing his butt and trying to pull him closer. "There's just white when you push, only white. Oh my god, I love white."

“That- it must feel so intense for you. Are you sure? Like this?” He held his breath and moved forward, easily bridging another few centimetres because Hyungwon relaxed just at that moment.

"Yes, yes, yes," Hyungwon mumbled and scratched over his skin to pull at his hips again. It sounded like the man below him was barely breathing, holding onto the air until he finally moved a little and those gorgeous plump lips parted in a silent moan. "Your face and white, heaven. You must be heaven. Heaven, heaven, heaven. Fuck me."

He laughed, accidentally moving forward and burying himself inside Hyungwon’s body, making his laugh sound like a mixture between a gasp and a moan. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he murmured, propping on his right arm and leaning forward to kiss those parted lips. The intensity overwhelmed him because of the detailed feedback of their bodies, how they intertwined, became one and he could feel so well how Hyungwon reacted to him. “Does it feel okay?” he asked, carefully moving his hips back and rolling them forward.

Hyungwon didn't reply, not with words. He could feel how the other man's whole body tensed up and was just about to pull back, but instead of pain there was utter bliss on Hyungwon's face. Black hair splayed out over the pillow as the handsome face was thrown from side to side and long fingers grabbed the sheets while scratching over them in an attempt to have more grip.

"Fuck," Hyungwon whispered eventually and coughed, voice already rough from moaning out loud. "Okay? Tea is okay. This is fucking amazing."

“My whole body is burning, and I can’t feel my fingertips because you pull every bit of attention from my thoughts. I’ll try moving.” Inhaling deeply, he pulled out almost completely before rolling his hips with a breathy moan.

The sensation wasn’t only intense because the body under him provided those but because of how incredibly close he felt to Hyungwon. How perfect his body looked, how his scent took over his every thought, how beautiful his low moans were, how much he loved being one like this and how emotional because he finally felt like he belonged.


	15. Final Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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CHAPTER 15

_“What do you think is the nicest feeling in the world?”_

_“No idea. Maybe the opposite of being alone?”_

_

White, a spark, almost black eyes, more white. It was difficult to explain how his perceptions changed as soon as Hoseok was close enough to leave nothing but these perceptions.

His mind had turned off before, transformed into colours and sparks that made him feel alive, more like himself along with the sheer calm inside his head. He enjoyed it when there was nothing but Hoseok, nothing but lips against his and hands roaming his body, but this was different. This was absolute.

White, white, white. The pleasure was at the border to the unbearable, so much that he felt immobilized, but as soon as it was over he yearned to repeat it. His hands pulled, and his fingers buried themselves in soft skin, in Hoseok's shoulders, his hips, anything he was able to reach and pull towards himself. He wanted more, so much more. More pleasure, more white, more Hoseok.

Before he had been aware of every detail, of hands holding onto his legs, of the skin of Hoseok's thighs that met his behind whenever he rolled his hips forward. He could still feel all those things, but in fragments, as if time stopped for the few seconds that his vision turned white.

"You can stop them," he mumbled and tried to push his hips against the heat, against the moment of utter bliss. "You can stop my thoughts just like that. Completely, white and pleasure. Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok."

"Then let me stop them. Let me make you feel only pleasure." A warm exhale brushed over his cheek and he felt hands on his thighs, stroking along them before Hoseok rolled his hips again, again and again, going faster, changing the angle, making him lose awareness of everything but the feeling that burned its way from his limbs, from his mind to the middle of his body, setting it on fire that only got hotter with every passing second.

His vision transformed into flashes, flashes of white, of red, of Hoseok’s face with sweat drops running down his forehead and along his nose bridge. The sight was breath-taking, so he attempted to reach out, but he couldn’t move at all. His body appeared to be immobile, caught in the pleasure that each of Hoseok’s motions was providing him with. He had imagined what it might feel like to feel so much pleasure, but the lack of coherency and awareness was so much more than he could have ever imagined.

His lips mumbled something, words that weren’t connected to each other, just like his perceptions didn’t seem connected to each other. He saw Hoseok’s parted lips, fingers on his thigh, felt warm air against his neck, against his lips, heard words but couldn’t make sense of them. All these things happened so quickly that he couldn’t combine them together into a single entity. He only knew that he didn’t want them to stop, not until-

He blinked, listening to the quickness of his heartbeat and attempting to solve the disorientation he felt. Was he still where he had been a moment ago? Before everything exploded into white and sparks and he forgot what it meant to exist?

“Am I stardust?” he asked quietly, still blinking and curling his fingers to figure out if they were still there. The noises around them weren’t too loud, instead he felt a little like he had slept, been gone for a bit.

_Did you lose consciousness?_

"You really look unreal; do you know that?" Hoseok's low, breathy voice exhaled into his ear before he was pulled flush against a hot and firm chest. "I can pull out and touch myself if you would like to stop now." A motion set his whole body ablaze and he curled his spine, wrapping his legs that he rediscovered around Hoseok's hips.

“No,” he muttered immediately, imagining the feeling disappearing just like that and hating every second of that hypothetical occurrence. “No, no, no, no. No stopping. Ever.”

Hoseok chuckled, stroking a few strands from his forehead before the feeling disappeared after all, leaving him empty and whimpering.

"I would like to be as close as possible and the angle is pretty nice, so I thought you could lie on your stomach and I would lie on top of you."

_On top of you._

He nodded furiously and attempted to turn, struggling mostly because he needed a while to figure out where his arms and legs were and how to use them to have the sheets touch his stomach instead of his back. His fingers were still shaking from feeling so much, but maybe it was also his whole body.

“Squish me,” he mumbled into the pillow that he threw his head on top of. There was something utterly blissful to feeling nothing but Hoseok and thinking about nothing but Hoseok either. “I don’t feel my body, but it doesn’t matter because I feel you. I’m happy.”

"But… is it a good thing?" Hoseok sounded worried as he felt the muscular thighs around his hips and how his coherency slowly disappeared with every bit of distance that Hoseok bridged, forcing him to forget about everything that he had wanted to say or do. He felt full, but when Hoseok lay on top of him, surrounded him with his muscular arms, his firm chest and thighs, it felt like everything that he couldn’t feel about himself was fully compensated by his ability to feel everything about Hoseok. It seemed like the person he liked the most had become a part of him, like he wrapped his arms so tightly around him that he was right there now, right inside his chest where he had wanted him all along. The warmth that spread through him from the thought was instantly replaced by another spark of white, this time strong enough to make him tremble and for his whole body to tense. He struggled to unwrap his fingers because of how good it felt, contracting his muscles so much that he couldn’t quite tell how to relax them again. Not even his lips moved properly when he tried to speak the other man’s name.

Hoseok kissed his shoulders, at least that's what he thought, hot lips travelling over his neck before everything turned white again and there was so much pleasure that he felt like drowning in it, barely able to stick out his nose and inhale briefly, right before the next wave buried him under it, along with the smooth motion of Hoseok's hips.

The same intense whiteness that had washed over him before seemed dangerously close, so close that he held his breath and buried his nails in the sheets below them. His lips mumbled something, maybe it was a warning towards Hoseok that he might pass out again, maybe it was also just scrambled words. He couldn’t really tell anymore, but he couldn’t get enough of it either. Moans rained from his lips when he lifted his head from the pillow again, shaking as his vision turned white once again.

No break, no words, just low moans, waves of pleasure and the feeling of Hoseok everywhere was what he could perceive before the fullness was so imminent that he screamed along with the twitches inside him, the squish that followed and rough quick breaths as the only sound in his ear, welcome and somehow familiar.

He curled his fingers, opening and closing them repeatedly as it seemed to be the only part of his body that still moved. His brain was in trance and he struggled to understand if the place where he lay was still the same place when he closed his eyes and decided to drown in pleasure. There was Hoseok, so it didn’t really matter where he was. He only needed those breaths and the warmth, the knowledge that it was okay and that he was next to somebody he liked and who liked him back.

_Your human._

“I… can only move my hand,” he muttered, giggling right after because only half the words came out. Apparently Hoseok had the ability to make him even less capable of words than he usually was.

_Maybe he knows what you mean even if you say ‘I - move - hand’._

"Are you okay with only moving your hand, or do you want me to pull out and go away?" Hoseok giggled too, muffling himself by pressing his lips to his shoulder. "This was all kinds of unreal, Hyungwon. I can't remember sex to feel this good."

“Me neither,” he muttered back even though it made no sense because he only had sex once. Maybe twice if coming twice meant it was twice. “People always s-seemed to be s- aware afterwards, but m-” Again he laughed because his speech was such a mess. “But my m-mouth doesn’t move.”

_Why isn’t everything coming back to you, too loud and too much?_

Maybe it was because Hoseok stayed close, because those warm breaths were still loud in his ears and there was nothing but the weight and the additional feeling of lips against his shoulder. None of it came from the outside and none of it attempted to be louder than his thoughts. They were slowly developing, getting louder and louder inside his head and telling him to wrap himself around Hoseok and never let go. But he couldn’t when his stomach was pressed to the sheets.

"You must feel a lot, but isn't it good? I think it's worse if you would feel nothing, or if it would hurt. I hope I didn't hurt you by accident. I also lost it somewhere in the middle." Hoseok carefully pulled out, crawling from the bed and doing something somewhere, before he was simply turned, warm hands wiping his stomach and hips with a cool wet tissue. "But how can you be so beautiful? Even if you can't say a word, you still blow my mind."

“I don’t even remember coming,” he remarked and stared at the tissue that Hoseok had used to wipe his release off him. He felt it, but it didn’t seem to be focused on his groin all that much, more like his whole body. Only when Hoseok’s eyes met his, he realized that there had been a question. “I am beautiful because you love me.”

A beautiful smile spread Hoseok's curved lips before the man nodded and lay next to him, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. "You're right. But I think it's more. I do think that I've loved before, but I feel connected to you. As if I'm an alien that was searching for his planet, but that planet turns out to be you. I set foot on it and am blown away by how beautiful it is, by how good it makes me feel to be here. With you."

_The planet… is you?_

His eyes widened, and he sat up quickly, wincing briefly because he felt a little sore, like after a very long run. It distracted him from his thoughts for a second or two before he remembered and grabbed Hoseok’s shoulders, shaking him a little.

“Do you think that is how it works? Do humans look for a person to be with and that is like their planet? And maybe I must do the same, but there was no human because I am not, but now there is you, so I also have my planet?” He wiggled his arms a little, feeling excited. “Being with you makes me feel amazing, like it doesn’t even matter what I am as long as I am me. Like the swan in my drawer just needs to be a swan because that is what I need it to be.”

"Mhm. I wrote a poem about it too. That I think that it's okay if there's one place where you feel like you belong. It can be a location, a home. It could be words, like a book, or a song, or it can be a person that can make you feel this way. You're making me feel like this and to me, you are the place I feel I belong most." Hoseok smiled at him, gently and when he did, he realised that the way the other man's mouth corners curled was different from what he has seen before. When Hoseok smiled for other people.

He drew a circle on Hoseok’s upper arm, imagining it like a little place to be, somewhere he felt safe because it was with the person he liked. Maybe it was the same for Hoseok, a small place that he created with him, even if it seemed like he couldn’t fit there at all.

“I am happy that you wrote me a letter,” he whispered, realizing something that he hadn’t been able to understand before. “Because the you I got to know through the letters isn’t the same person as Hoseok who leaves this small apartment. It… it is a different person, one that pretends. Just like me.”

"A shadow. It's still me in some sense, because I'm choosing to do it, I'm acting consciously, but it doesn't make it less exhausting. I know that there is a difference between me and others that I can't bridge with small talk or meaningless conversation, so I act and hope that it will be over soon. Most people aren't interested in the depth a human possesses. They are interested in the most effective way to fulfil their desires, satisfy their needs. But sometimes… sometimes when there is space for more than just a thought about going to work next morning, right at that moment, you might be able to see more than the shadow of a person you're dealing with. You caught it, little alien, and I couldn't free myself from it, trying to get more and more of it because it made me feel like I matter. Like the me you know really matters to you." Hoseok looked emotional, staring somewhere when he talked and chewing on his bottom lip occasionally when the break was too long.

“It does,” he whispered because it was the truth, using his fingers to stroke along Hoseok’s arm and hope that he would decide to look at him again. Feeling vulnerable meant that humans looked away because they feared what they were going to see on another person’s face. He wanted to be one of those faces that Hoseok wasn’t afraid of looking at, even when he felt like this. “It does, because even though I actually had everything I wanted, I still needed you. I had the boy who promised, I lived with him and the only step missing was getting married, but all this time I found myself thinking about you and wanting nothing but to crawl to the other side of the wall and lie in your arms with warm breaths in my ear. You made me understand things that nobody else did, as if you know what it’s like when the world doesn’t make any sense. It never does to me, but somehow your world does. So, I would like to be a part of it.”

"I want to help. I- I think that you can do so much more than you feel capable of and I want to help you explore it, if you let me. I too, will work on the thought that I won't be able to sleep normally until I die and the fear that I won't be able to create if I get help and don't have the night. I will work on that, but I really want you to try and do things you think you can't." Warm arms wrapped around him and Hoseok finally returned his gaze, those black eyes that were still a bit scary sometimes, but mostly, they made him feel like home. "I will be here if it's scary, you won't be alone with this."

_Not alone._

He smiled, feeling the sensation of fullness in his chest again, so much that he felt like shaking to get rid of all the excess sunshine that occupied every inch of his body.

“Will you… be my human then?” he asked and reached for Hoseok’s hand, drawing a ring with his index finger because he remembered doing it before, replacing a human gesture with one that was more like his own, a simple touch.

"I thought I already am? I thought I'm your Hoseok. Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok. But I won't let you ignore things that make you slightly uncomfortable because there’s no change without discomfort. I also feel scared when I think that I will suddenly be able to sleep. I think what will I do if I sleep and won't write. Writing is such a big part of me, so I don't want to risk a change, but at the same time… at the same time, I need to. I think we're scared because we're afraid to lose something, but we make a mistake in our thinking. We only consider the loss we might experience at a certain time because we change what we know, but we don't count all the accumulated losses we suffered and will suffer if we remain without change. Would you like to change together with me?" Hoseok asked and stroked over his ring finger gently.

_Change. He wants to change together._

“But-” he whispered, almost shaking from the thought of change alone. “But aren’t things okay like this? I- I have you, so I won’t turn into stardust when grandma leaves. I won’t be hungry either, I can buy things. I can… I can buy tomatoes.”

"But you can do so much more, Hyungwon. I'm not saying that I want you to do all the things I consider a person should be able to do. I'm saying that you can practice and learn to do some things yourself and feel good about it. We will go shopping together tomorrow, okay? You will write a list of the things you eat every day and then we will go to the shop and buy all the things on that list, and if something isn't offered, we will buy it next time. If you feel lost, I'll be there to help. Like the saviour you considered me to be. Just that the saviour is you yourself, but you aren't aware."

_Saviour, saviour, saviour._

“It’s you,” he replied, because it was clear as day. Hoseok was only trying to make him feel better about the things that he couldn’t do, but that was okay. “Because you are going to do it with me. Grandma did it a few times too when I was little, but it didn’t go too well, so she stopped.”

"I'm only going to stop if you tell me to leave and to pack my suitcase. There's always a way out, but there are things that I think you can do and some that I don't think you have to do. I am sure you can learn to shop for yourself, but I don't expect you to make friends at work or call before you come here. I don't need that from you. But I need you to know that you can learn and that you can improve and that you can change too. I'm not saying that it won't be stressful. It will be. But you will be able to do it afterwards." Hoseok sat up and took his hand, squeezing it a bit too tightly. "To be very honest with you, I was scared that you would misunderstand me. That you would think I don't love you the way you are and want you to change for me or to be more human. That's not true at all. But I don't think love means to blindly accept everything. To me love means that I must stand through the anxiety of being misunderstood by the person I love to help that said person develop and become a happier version of themselves. I want you to be happy, Hyungwon. To bring your favourite sushi home and be sure that you can always do it without having to rely on somebody to help you."

_To do all those things that you were sad you couldn’t do, the things you thought make you an alien._

“But will I still be myself then?” he whispered and tugged at his fingers, nervous that something might break about him. A long time has passed since he tried to do the things he knew he couldn’t. Why would he suddenly be able to do them? Hoseok seemed so sure and there was no doubt that he meant well. It just seemed so scary, like his teenage self attempting to be a human and fit in all over again, only to lie on the ground unmoving for hours because he didn’t know what to do. “Are you not a happier version of yourself? Does the happier version sleep while still creating? Is that what would make you happy? But shopping doesn’t make me happy. You do.”

"It's not the action that does, it's the outcome. The shopping won't make you happy because it will probably still be stressful to you but having your favourite food for lunch instead of sitting around hungry might." Hoseok pulled him into a warm embrace, lips whispering into his ear. "I am happy right now. But… I haven't slept for two days and I feel exhausted and like I'm not myself either. I don't have any strength to be anything currently, and I feel like it has a severe impact on how and what I think. I don't like my thoughts recently. They're dark and it's harder to push them away with strategies that I usually use. That's why I talked about loss. I'm scared to lose something if I change, but I keep losing all this time, so how bad can it be?"

"So," he began as once again Hoseok's words took form and helped him understand what the other man meant by losing. He was losing all the time. "So, you mean that by staying this way I am losing every time that I could just go and eat, every time that I could talk to my grandma instead of having her go shop for me. All these things that I would gain back...it's… so many."

Hoseok nodded and pulled his hand to his face, placing a kiss against his knuckles. "I think so too. I don't expect it to work immediately. But I really want to try. Together with you."

There was still a hint of fear, his memories of every single breakdown he had inside a supermarket, but somehow Hoseok was able to push all of that to the background. There was something about the man in front of him, Hoseok, the man behind the wall, that reached within him and pulled out the parts that were the least human while still making them function as if they were, as if he could understand words and as if he could have a sound in an eternity of silence. A person next to him.

"Okay," he whispered in reply and for the first time in his life, he felt like there was no need for a promise. He believed every single word.

EPILOGUE

The old, grey t-shirt stuck to his body, soaked by a mixture of rain and sweat as he ran towards the familiar apartment building. There was a certain clarity in his thoughts, they seemed organised and their content was easy to understand and well-structured. The short woman that had talked to him with her legs crossed while drawing circles into her grey jeans that reminded him of the rainy Paris sky had told him that he should continue going for runs frequently because it has many positive effects.

Today, out of all the days, he really felt it and stopped on the dirty patch of grass, right in front of the entrance. He looked up and let the drops cover his face, focusing on every single bit of skin that the water hit. Every droplet caused a brief tingling before it disappeared, only remaining in his mind as a memory, alternated by his own judgment and mixed with his feelings right at that moment.

_You survive_

_Because you can_

_Make the same thing_

_Feel different_

_By changing the value of yourself_

_In the equation._

He smiled, feeling how right now, soaked, wearing the old grey t-shirt and standing on the dirty grass in front of the entrance to the slightly rundown apartment building, he felt most like himself. He was himself.

Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok.

One, two, three, four, he counted his steps as he climbed up the stairs. This specific habit developed only recently, and he learned it from the person who lived next door. The person who really loves numbers and counts everything, giving it a certain structure, a timeframe. After a one, always comes a two and creates safety. The safety that everything is going the way it should.

With the key in his hand he stopped, glancing at the box in front of his apartment door. His eyes widened, because he didn’t expect anything, but crouched down, wiping the water from his eyes to see better. It looked like a plastic box, one that is used for sushi take-away.

One could have argued that there was nothing special about a plastic box with sushi, but this one was. Because the person that must’ve left it in front of his door for him was. Because Hyungwon is.

His hands shook a bit from the run, from the cold rain and from excitement as he carefully opened the lid, looking at the Nigiri that were messily organised inside the box, forming a heart. A salmon heart.

He laughed loudly, freely, a laugh that could only develop if one was genuinely happy and didn’t care about how it sounded, how it felt to other people. It incorporated everything good, the freedom, the surprise, the love that flooded his chest when he looked at the outcome of a thought, a gesture that made him so happy that he closed his eyes to give himself a moment to savour the feeling.

After he felt ready to look at it again, he realised that there was a small post-it note stuck to the back of the lid, pink and friendly. Excited, he turned it, reading the words over and over again, until it felt like they engraved in his memory.

‘Let’s live together!!!’ it said.

Let’s live together. Three words.

Three exclamation marks and three hearts, carefully drawn one after another.

The feeling was hard to contain. A happiness as big as the whole city of Paris, like a gigantic raincloud that was so full of water that it was about to burst. He first wanted to run next door, take Hyungwon and squish him because right now he really felt like he needed to put his feelings somewhere, but after opening his door at the third attempt and facing the white desk at the window, he decided to put it all on paper.

With shaky fingers, he took a black fountain pen and stared at the last page of his notebook that was full of words that were inspired by the person behind the wall. The person who changed him, took his insecurities and transformed them into something he used to develop into a better version of himself. The person who loved him for who he was and the person who didn’t want any wall between them anymore.

Inhaling as deep as he could, he wrote.

‘To be honest, I feel like I have so much to say, that I can’t say anything because no matter which words I will use, it won’t convey what I am feeling right now. But you deserve to know how you can make me feel. You deserve to feel that you are the reason for the happiness that is making my vision blurry as I write these words to you. To you. My alien. My planet. The place I feel like I belong.

The piece of paper that you pushed through the space under my door, the touch of your fingers, the words that you told me, comforting me by existing, I don’t know if I will ever be able to repay that. I want to try. I want to make you feel the bursting happiness I feel right now, I want you to feel calm when you feel exhausted and know that there is no need to hide. I want to be the safety that you are longing for, the safety that everything will be fine, no matter what happens. Like a two coming after the one. Always.

To me, my beautiful alien, you are everything that is good about humanity. You are honest, even if it hurts, confused by the world around, but never blaming anybody. You are the only person that can make me feel as if I belong. As if it’s okay to be who I am. As if you loved the essence of me even before I could.

My heart is so full of love for you when you point at the alarm clock because you like the number so much and want to share, when you smile genuinely, happy when I explained something, and you understood. I love how you pick clothes to match a certain rule I don’t know about and I’m trying to guess what it is today. Is it the colour? Or the pattern? Or is it something different entirely? You are like a never-ending fountain of inspiration to me. I am so grateful that you cared enough to share yourself with a stranger behind the wall. A stranger that loves you so much that there is nothing else he wants more than to share his life with you.

My happiness is not the same every day. It’s so hard to watch how you blame yourself, how things can get too much easily and how you try and try to break out of the continuous overload that makes you feel like stardust. Even if I can’t make it stop, even if I can’t change the way you feel completely, the expectations others have towards you and those that you have towards yourself, I want to be here. I want to lie on the carpet next to you and say nothing for hours and I want to feel your fingers on my wrist, one, two, three, four. I want to wrap my arms around you when you cry and stay like this until you feel better. I want to show you that no matter what life has for you, you are not alone. That I will stay right here, next to you. Hyungwon, Hyungwon, Hyungwon.

_I never thought_

_Those words_

_Would appear on paper_

_But when my eyes shut_

_And everything disappears_

_When I can’t feel my body_

_And no thoughts_

_There is still you._

_And keep thinking_

_How blessed I am_

_To sleep_

_And dream of you._

I’m going to pack my suitcase. Throw those old grey shirts into it, close the zipper and make the wall between us disappear. It’s over now. You don’t have to be lonely anymore, little alien.

H.’

**THE END.**


End file.
